The Journey Home
by enchantedstarlight
Summary: Ginny skips out on her last year at Hogwarts to go in search of answers in a troubled post-Voldemort world. What she finds is a mad-eyed mentor, a mystery around the murder of Lucius Malfoy, and an adventure that teaches her far more than she imagined.
1. Chapter 1  Found and Lost

A/N - This story was nominated in six categories in the 2011 D/G fic exchange, winner of Best Minor Character.

This version has an additional chapter that was not posted as part of the fic exchange. As a result, this version is an "M" rated story, where the one in the exchange was only a "PG". If you prefer the PG version. The "M" rated chapter will be chapter 3.

Ginny Weasley wiped the blood and sweat from her eyes after she ducked behind the fallen tree. For more than two days, she'd been in the same clothing, running, hiding, fighting. Soon, it would come to some sort of conclusion, and a part of her had hungered for and craved this moment. All she had to do now was wait.

The adrenaline surged through her veins and she forced herself to remain calm. Despite the hardship, she welcomed what was about to happen. For the first time in months, she felt that she was finally in control. Despite the chaos and uncertainty, a part of her knew, with profound certainty, that this moment had been building inside her for a long time. She wondered if perhaps it had been something that she'd been seeking from the moment that Tom Riddle had overtaken her mind so many years ago.

Funny how having so little sleep and running on a surge of adrenaline could make a person see things so much more clearly.

While she waited, watching the opening of the cave from her hiding spot, she found herself recounting everything in her life that, ultimately, had brought her to this rather unlikely location.

She'd certainly had enough events that had shaped her personality, both good and bad, but, as she thought about what choices had brought her to this point, she realized that the Battle of Hogwarts had been the worst, the most defining.

She hated that day more than any other. Other events had been bad, but manageable: the diary, the battle at the Ministry, the death of Professor Dumbledore. They'd been traumatic and, certainly, each event had hardened her young soul just a little bit. But the battle had been a culmination of everything that had gone before. It had marked the end of her innocence in the worst way. It had brought with it the death of her beloved brother, Fred.

That day had driven her from her family and now, standing alone, she suddenly realized that she missed them. That moment had been burned into her memory, with unfair clarity, despite her best attempts to avoid thinking about it. It felt like a raw wound yet, somehow, she suddenly understood that it was the very reason that she was currently crouched behind the moss covered log.

She had closed her eyes when her mother had told her the news, unwilling to turn and look at the body lying on the floor of the Great Hall. Somehow, seeing him there would make the news real, and she couldn't face that.

With all her heart, she had wanted to collapse into a ball, streaming endless tears over the death of the brother that she'd loved, but the situation made that impossible. The Battle of Hogwarts still raged, and she had people who needed her, so she cast aside her feelings and diverted her attention to those who were still alive and needed her help.

Eventually, the battle came to a merciful end and, as the day dawned on the morning after Voldemort's demise, Ginny Weasely watched the blood red dawn and realized that something within her had changed irrevocably. Amidst the mixed feelings of celebration and loss, she realized that a part of herself had died alongside her brother.

It had been a horrible epiphany.

Strangely enough, the world seemed to continue after that day and Ginny watched the people around her continue along with it. Over the long, sad summer, she watched as Harry and the rest of her family eventually put aside the shock and pain and, with the exception of George, put aside the grief to continue with their lives.

At first, Ginny attempted to do the same. She managed to return to her daily routine, and attempted to fit in with whatever the others were doing, but she found herself growing more and more angry as each day passed. Society was slowly flowing back to the pace that had existed before Voldemort, as if he'd never existed, and Ginny felt something about that was unbelievably wrong.

It felt as if everyone had gone mad.

She could not understand how anything or anyone could go back to normal when so many had died in an unjust war. Forgetting about it had not been enough. She couldn't forget. She coudn't accept that life could simply go on.

As the weeks wore on, she distanced herself from her family, unable to tolerate how they could pretend that things were getting better. She became obsessed with following the news, watching the world with a new perspective that the rest of her family either failed to see, or outright ignored.

Behind the hopeful headlines that told of a Ministry that was working to rebuild, she found less publicized stories of violence and murder. Even the suspicious death of the once-prominent Lucius Malfoy was barely mentioned in a small story in the back of the Daily Prophet.

Yet, nobody seemed to care. The world was tired of fighting and people desperately wanted to go back to what was left of their lives and pretend that everything was all right.

But it wasn't all right, and it seemed that only Ginny seemed to care that the demise of Voldemort did not seem to bring an end to his followers.

Then, something profound happened that brought her hope.

Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody was found alive.

For over a year, it was believed that the staunch, gruff, former Auror had been killed while transporting a decoy for Harry Potter. But, as it turned out, the man had been resourceful to his last breath. He'd been brutally injured, and his attackers had stripped him of all his magical devices and left him for dead, but they'd underestimated the level of sheer grit and determination that had defined the wizard.

It was only by chance that he'd been discovered in a Muggle hospital, recovering from multiple injuries, and still confused as a result of some of the many spells that had been cast upon him.

After only a week in St. Mungo's, the resilient wizard was back on his feet. Upon his release, he did two things: the first was to contact his old friend and ally, Kingsley Shacklebolt, to arrange returning to work, and the second was to visit, without exception, the grave of every member of the Order of the Phoenix who had died during the Battle of Hogwarts.

That fall, with determination and a bit of raw nerve, Ginny Weasley slipped out of the Magical section of King's Cross train station and away from her family and went straight to the Ministry in search of a job.

Having little other option, since she hadn't finished her schooling, she resorted to begging for a favor from the acting Minister and longstanding family friend, Kingsley Shacklebolt, who seemed determined to convince her to go back to school. She'd refused. After a long discussion, where she made clear that she had no intention of going back, the new Minister finally relented.

She was assigned a temporary position, in the newly formed Office of Investigation Archives, run by none other than the infamous Alastor Moody.

Moody's office was in one of the more obscure sections, located in one of the lowest levels of the building. It was a stark room, with only a minimal amount of furniture and office items in the waiting area. A weathered and beaten old desk was placed in one corner, with an ancient typewriter sitting on it, covered in dust. Nothing graced the walls, although there were some patches where the dull paint was lighter in color, showing where wall hangings had once adorned the area. On one side, a door was located to another room, looking just as beaten and battered as the rest of the place. She presumed that the door led to an inner office.

Without warning, the old Auror emerged from that door, wand drawn and apparently ready to battle. He stopped upon recognizing the visitor, his wand remaining on guard as he carefully looked her over.

"Ginny Weasley," he stated, looking just as gruff as she'd ever seen. She nodded, but his harsh expression didn't change. He looked her over carefully, his Magical eye rolling wildly.

"Where did we first meet?" he asked abruptly, raising his chin and his wand in challenge.

She smiled slightly, realizing that she was glad that the grizzled man hadn't seemed to change in the slightest. "Grimmauld Place. Three summers ago," she responded firmly, then, knowing that he expected the same sort of greeting, she challenged him in return. "Tell me who you arrived with," she demanded in kind.

The older man's scarred face twisted into a satisfied smile. "Dumbledore, himself, God rest him," he returned. "Good girl. Now, that we've got that settled, what brings ye here?"

She presented the paperwork that Shacklebolt's assistant had given her. "Job. Mr. Shacklebolt seems to feel that you need an assistant." She glanced at the dusty, unused typewriter in the corner with some trepidation. "He mentioned something about turning in paperwork."

Moody's magical eyepiece spun around, looking over the papers and he gave a grunt that might have been annoyance. "Hmmph," he mumbled, "Kingsley's been on at me about that. Damn accountants and such seem to feel I need to justify my work. Worthless bureaucrats."

He looked back up at her, his real eye squinting slightly. "I'll take ye, if ye feel ye've got the stomach fer it."

She nodded, unsure. "What exactly do you do here, Sir, if you don't mind me asking?"

He gave her look that was a mixture of bitterness, pride and determination. "I'm looking for every last bastard that was hooked in with Voldemort. Now that he's dead, the little cockroaches are hiding under every legal loophole and respectable job they can find. The Auror Department is too full of blithering idiots and proper procedures to do what needs to be done to find them. That's where I come in."

She nodded, meeting his determined gaze firmly to let him know that she wasn't afraid of such work. He grunted again, apparently not quite satisfied. "They don't like to talk about me, girl. That's why I'm stuck down here, where they prefer to forget about me, that is, until I haul one of those spineless tossers in front of the Wizengamot."

Ginny looked at the man, with his magical eye, his scars and battered and twisted limbs; a man more tough and determined than any human-being she'd ever known. She thought of her beloved brother, three months dead because of those barbarians that Moody was seeking out. She lifted her chin. Kingsley had thought Moody would frighten her off, that she'd see what was offered to her and it would give her incentive to go right back to school. Instead, he'd given her exactly what she'd been hoping to find. She was more than glad to respond, "I'd be honored to help, Sir."

It took her a week to clear the dust from the waiting area and set up files for Mad-Eye. She borrowed forms and letterhead from the Auror Department, hoping to at least make the reports she filed look as official as possible. Most of the work, however, involved setting up and maintaining security spells to protect the office's information from any unauthorized individuals.

"Kind of ridiculous," the old Auror groused as he taught her yet another spell. "They make us waste time writing it all down, and then we have to waste time making sure that it doesn't fall into the wrong hands, and then they make us file reports to justify all the time we spend because we don't have time left to do the real work."

"Yes, Sir," she responded dutifully, although she was starting to understand enough about bureaucracy to agree with him.

Over the next few weeks, she saw little of her boss. He was tracking a half-dozen supposedly respectable citizens, therefore he was frequently out of the office gathering information. However, whenever he was there, he made certain to teach her a new spell for defense and ordered her to practice it diligently.

When she wasn't practicing, Ginny spent her days working on trying to get her ancient typewriter to accept Moody's notes without complaining. Unfortunately, the device apparently had some sort of propriety spell on it. It refused to type out the wording properly. Every time she used any sort of foul language, of which there was quite a bit in Moody's notes, the typewriter would alter the wording to something that was more socially and politically correct.

It also seemed to have moods, where some days it was more particular about holding to propriety than others. This day it seemed to be more snippity than usual. She gave a deep sigh.

A loud popping noise in the waiting area distracted her from the useless antique. She looked up to see Moody hauling forward a reedy-looking man, his wand steadily trained on the man's throat.

Unsure of how to react, Ginny froze in her seat and watched Moody as he hauled the man forward, shoving him against the wall, keeping his wand ready. "Now, you're going to tell me who was involved in bringing the giants to the battle."

Giants. Ginny felt her heart race. Giants had been responsible for ripping apart the castle where Fred had been standing. Her blood ran cold.

The man sneered back at Moody. "I told you, I never spoke to the filthy beasts!"

"Aye, but ye know who did and I want their names," Moody responded coldly.

The man broke away from Moody, staring at him angrily, an almost self-righteous look on his face. "I told you, I had nothing to do with them!"

Moody grabbed the man's wrist and viciously ripped his shirtsleeve up to reveal the faded remains of the Dark Mark on his inner forearm. "Then, what's this? Last I heard, ye don't get a mark like that fer deliverin' flowers."

The man wrenched his arm out of Moody's grasp and sneered. "I was at Hogwarts, but I didn't kill nobody there."

"No, but sixteen children died in that castle when the beasts tore into it," Moody said accusingly. "I know ye were involved with that lot, but I'm guessin' you weren't smart enough to be the one to convince them to join up. Tell me who yer workin' fer now."

"I work for the Ministry, you worthless old..."

"I wouldn't finish that statement," Moody interrupted.

The man ripped his arm out of Moody's grasp, then made a seemingly harmless gesture, as if he was brushing dust from his sleeve where Moody had touched him. But the gesture released some sort of dust. Moody, ever watchful, noticed the substance and stepped away, but it distracted him for a second or so, long enough for the thin man to snatch the old Auror's wand and turn it against him.

"Now, old man, I'm not going to tell you a thing."

Ginny, having watched from the beginning, found herself ready to react. She whipped out her wand, aiming it in the general direction of the pair, although she was shaking so badly that it wasn't clear which of the two she was focusing toward. She didn't give the appearance of someone ready to act, and the reedy man sneered, turning back to Moody, obviously ready to fire a curse.

That was when he was struck by a ball of flames, squarely in the middle of his back.

"Arggh!" he screeched, dropping to the floor and rolling in an attempt to extinguish the flames, Moody's wand clattering as it left his hand.

Moody grabbed the item, once again ready to defend himself, only to look up to see his young office assistant standing over the suspect, an angry glare on her face.

"I believe Mr. Moody asked you a question," she growled harshly, ignoring the man's obvious pain. "I suggest you answer."

He looked at the pair incredulously. "You're both nutters! You can't do this! I have rights!"

But Ginny felt nothing in that moment. He'd been involved at Hogwarts, and just moments ago, he'd attacked Mad-Eye Moody. Her anger overtook her and she realized that she wanted this man to suffer.

Moody said nothing, although his magical eye swiveled between the girl and the suspect quickly. Then, he moved forward, taunting the man. "Oh, this is nothing. It can be healed once we get you to the med wing in Azkaban, but I'm sensing that, by the time we get you there, you might have some other injuries that won't be so easily repaired. For example, how do you feel about keeping your left foot?"

The man attempted to crawl away, clearly terrified that he was serious. "You're mad!"

Moody's magical eye swiveled between Ginny and the suspect, as if he were sizing each of them up. He nodded at her, pointing to the suspect's foot. She sucked in a breath, realizing what he was asking her to do, but then, oddly enough, he winked. Something in her then understood that it was part of how the game was played. With all the anger surging inside her, it wasn't difficult to want to play along.

"Incendio!" she said with venom, aiming her wand and lighting his shoe on fire.

"Stop!" he wailed in fear and pain, beating at the flames before they did too much damage.

"I'll start working my way up the rest of your leg, piece by piece, until you give Mr. Moody the information," she said angrily. Clearly he was injured, but not all that seriously, making her wonder how he had managed to become a Death Eater.

He cowered on the ground, whimpering. Then, he looked up at Moody, hoping to see some shred of decency or compassion, but Moody's face was devoid of any emotion. Ginny tried to appear just as cold.

Defeated, he mumbled, "They'll kill me if I talk. Just like they killed Malfoy. None of them wants to go to Azkaban."

Moody gave an ironic chuckle. "And, I think the girl will kill ye if you don't talk. Your choice."

So, he talked, but the information was sparse, and not entirely useful. Obliviated and Confunded, the man was sent to the holding cells on the lower level, with a vague story about being in a magical accident.

When Moody returned, he walked up to her desk, his real eye studying her thoughtfully. She prepared herself for some sort of reprimand for her unethical action against the man. Instead, Moody looked at her a bit sadly, then, he tapped his finger to his temple near his real eye and said, "There's some things this eye sees better, girl."

She looked at him, confused.

"You want answers," he said gruffly.

She thought for a moment. She'd just attacked a man, granted, he'd been threatening Moody, but she'd gone beyond that, and she felt no remorse, only a release of some of her endless anger, and somehow Moody seemed to understand. Looking at the haggard old Auror, she nodded.

His magical eye wobbled furiously in its socket, scanning over her in a frenzied manner and, for the hundredth time since she'd started the job, she wondered what the device actually did.

Regardless of the eye's function, after a moment of contemplation, the old Auror seemed satisfied with something he'd seen. "Alright then. We start tomorrow morning. Dress properly," he ordered, motioning with distaste at her skirt and shoes. "None of those useless dress shoes. You'll need to be able to move around quickly if ye expect to defend yerself."

Shocked at his willingness to teach her, she nodded mutely, then got back to her typewriter. She'd expected him to ask why, and she was prepared to tell him, but he didn't ask. He just knew.

As always, please review. It's not hard, and it keeps us writers motivated to keep going.


	2. Chapter 2  Enter the Stranger

+Chapter 2+

Her training was more difficult than she'd expected. Each morning, she walked into the office on guard, prepared for whatever Moody might throw at her when she walked in, and she failed the morning test more often than not. Each day was a lesson, a spell, a new way to hide, and how to detect someone who was hidden. He'd throw things at her randomly during the workday. She found herself always edgy, always waiting for an attack or deception. It was exactly what she'd wanted.

It was on a cold morning in December that she sat behind her desk, concentrating on a wandless spell that might force her typewriter to burst into flames, when the door to the office opened.

To say that it was unusual for anyone to visit Moody's office was an understatement. Nobody ever came down to the dingy lower level where they were located. First, few people even knew of the Office of Investigation Archives, and, if they did, they presumed it was nothing of importance. On the rare occasions when someone actually did want to interact with them, a simple interoffice correspondence was sent or, if Moody was needed in person, he was asked to visit the appropriate party in their office. So, on the morning that the office door opened to allow entrance to another person, Ginny immediately reached for the wand holster strapped on her thigh, and readied herself for another of Moody's tests.

When she recognized the visitor, she was more than certain that it was a test.

Quicker than a snitch, she had her wand out and at the ready. "Freeze right where you are and state your business," she commanded coldly.

He froze, his hand still resting on the handle of the door, and his jaw dropping open in surprise. "You've got to be joking."

"Don't move, Malfoy, or whoever you are. State your business," she ordered.

He looked at her as if she were insane. "I've come to speak with Auror Moody," he said rather snappishly.

"Do you have an appointment?"

His look of irritation managed to increase, which was rather impressive. "No, I was sent here by Shacklebolt."

She studied him for several seconds, attempting to decide whether or not his reason was sound. The look on his face was rather genuine. He was annoyed and impatient, although she caught something else in his eyes that seemed familiar to her. "Mr. Moody is a busy man and I doubt helping a former Death Eater is high on his list," she said.

"Not high on anyone's list, apparently," he said with bitterness. "I find it rather funny that, a full five months after my father was killed, I am finally invited to come to the Ministry to make a statement. It shows how high my father's murder is on the Ministry's priority list. Then, when I arrive, I'm sent to this pitiful place." He looked around the office, taking in the worn décor. "Investigation Archives? I presume that means that my statement will be filed away and forgotten, so why bother to give one at all?"

"We're serious about our work, Malfoy," she said somewhat defensively, still wondering why Kingsley would have directed him here. Although Kingsley had once been an Aurror, his current title was Minister of Magic, and, as such, it seemed unusual that he'd have any involvement in an almost forgotten murder case. "If you prefer to go to the Auror's office, I won't stop you," she said, motioning to the door.

He sniffed, his expression haughty. "The Aurors couldn't care less about this case. I'm only here because the Minister of Magic seemed to feel that I should do this. I'm fulfilling an obligation, nothing more."

Satisfied that the person in the room really was Malfoy, she let down her guard slightly. Then, she realized that she was stuck with him. Moody wasn't there, and she really didn't want to spend the time with him sitting in the waiting room. She decided that there was little reason that she couldn't at least have some fun making his interview as painful as possible.

She used her wand to gesture to the worn seat in front of her desk. "Take a seat, Malfoy, and I'll fill out a form."

"I came here to speak with that old quack, Moody," he stated insistently.

"He's not here, and you, of all people, should understand that there is a need to keep paperwork for things like this."

He sat stiffly in the chair, glaring at her, but she ignored it. With exaggerated formality, she pulled out a standard form and primly inserted it into her typewriter.

To her dismay, the device obediently accepted the form, centered it properly and awaited input.

"Name?" she asked.

He rolled his eyes. "You full well know my name, Weasley. Can we just get to the point?"

She crossed her arms and sat back in her chair, clearly unwilling to continue. "Name?" she repeated, coldly.

He sighed in annoyance and defeat. "Draco Abraxis Malfoy," he responded with irritation.

The typewriter obediently clattered away, making Ginny scowl in irritation at the thing.

She'd truly hoped that the typewriter would be its usual self and distort every other word entered, however, it seemed to like him. Every word that he stated, it copied perfectly. If it was at all possible, she decided that she hated the thing even more than before. Despite her best efforts to make it as difficult as possible on the young man, the tedious details were completed, and Malfoy was still there when Moody arrived.

Moody looked the boy over, his eye scanning rapidly, and spoke first. "Ah, young Mr. Malfoy," he said, then gave a bit of a grunt. "I'm Alastor Moody. Kingsley told me ter be expectin' ye."

Malfoy sneered at the older man, taking in his rough features. "Turn anyone into ferrets lately?" he asked sarcastically.

Moody chuckled. "Ah! Yer the one. I heard that it was one of the things young Barty did right while he was impersonating me."

Malfoy stood, seething slightly. "I'm here because I was told you are doing special investigations regarding the death of my father, and I'm under obligation to give you my statement." He looked around the shabby office, and gave a harsh bark of laughter. "However, I see that this is just a place to send the problems that the real Aurors don't want to deal with."

"You have no idea what you are talking about Malfoy," Moody responded. "And with that mark on yer arm, I suggest ye watch yer mouth."

Malfoy took a deep breath, tilting his head in agreement. "Of course, Sir," he responded in mock politeness.

Moody gave a gracious smile, apparently unaffected by the young man's attitude. "Good. Then, let's get this over with," Moody said tersely, and motioned Malfoy into his office.

A half hour later, the pair exited Moody's office, and Ginny watched as Malfoy left without giving her another glance.

Moody tossed his notes onto Ginny's desk, giving her a strange smile. She ignored his unusual expression and picked up the notes, settling herself in front of her typewriter. "I'll get started on this right away, Sir."

"Not this time, girl. There'll be no need to waste yer time on that."

"But..." she said, looking at the parchment in confusion.

"Those are fer you to look over t'night," he said in his normal gruff tone. "You'll be helpin' Malfoy find who's behind his father's murder."

"What?"

Moody chuckled and Ginny thought it was possibly the most cheerful she'd ever seen him, but she wasn't certain that was a good thing.

"It's your first assignment," he said rather cheerfully.

She shook her head in disbelief. "But... why?"

"To find who's behind ol' Lucius's death o' course," he replied, with a glint of mischief in his eye that reminded her painfully of Dumbledore.

She looked back at her boss crossly. "But, why bother? Lucius Malfoy was far from being innocent. If anything, whoever killed him did us a favor!"

He looked at her sternly. "Didn't I teach you anything these past months?"

She felt a bit embarrassed, unsure of what he'd meant by that. "Of course, Mr. Moody. But, of all the things, why do we need to find Lucius Malfoy's murderer?"

Moody shook his head. "We don't. I already know who the murderer is. I've known since the day after it happened."

She couldn't hide her expression of shock. "Did you tell Malfoy that?"

Smiling knowingly, Mad-Eye tapped his finger to his head. "No be tellin' all our secrets, girl. I know who actually killed him, but he's not the one behind it all. The man who pulled the wand on ol' Lucius was a two-bit petty thief, name of Wickens. Young Malfoy doesn't know that yet. No matter. Wickins is already dead too, and someone planned it that way to cover their tracks. Whoever that person was is the one we're after."

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "The Malfoy murder is part of a conspiracy?"

He nodded. "Oh, fer certain. The same feller that was responsible fer killin' Lucius was one of Voldemort's main people, and he's hidin' in the Ministry. I'm sure of it. That's why Kingsley keeps us down here, with some nonsense title, because then nobody pays attention to us. He doesn't trust that the traitor doesn't have people in the Auror Department."

She looked thoughtful for a moment. "But, I don't understand. Why me?"

"Because Malfoy knows a bit more than he's lettin' on. He didn't tell me the whole truth, not that I expected him to, but he gave me enough. I'm thinkin' that you might be better at getting' the whole story out of him."

Surprised, she shook her head. "I doubt he'll tell me anything. Besides, how can you be certain that anything he told you was the truth?"

Again, he tapped his finger. "Because, he's worried that whoever killed his father will be after him and his mother for the same reason. Lucius Malfoy knew everyone who worked fer Voldemort, and that made him a very dangerous man. After he apparently turned coat on ol' Voldie, he made a lot of enemies. Someone was worried enough about what he knew that they killed him so he couldn't talk." Moody gave a knowing smile. "Young Malfoy's more worried than he's lettin' show, that's why he's so crass with us. He may not be giving me the whole story, but what he told me was the truth. Find the reason, find the killer. I think ye might find some answers fer yerself while yer at it."

She drew a deep breath. Moody knew, just like he seemed to always know. His keen and relentless observation had led him to know that, more than anything, she wanted answers about why Fred had died and, based on what she'd seen recently in all of Moody's reports, that whoever was tied to this conspiracy was involved in that attack on the castle. She needed to help find them.

Armed with the information Moody had given her, Ginny left the office with mixed feelings. She had been hoping for weeks that Mad-Eye would give her more than spellwork and filing to do, but she had not been expecting to get the Malfoy murder as her project.

Nevertheless, when she glanced at the information Moody had provided, she understood why he'd chosen her. Her boss had been working on the case for months, trying to track down something that appeared far more involved than just the murder of one former Death Eater. Lucius Malfoy's murder had been a link in a series of suspicious events that had started occurring since the final battle.

Someone was covering something, and Moody suspected that it had ties to the Ministry.

But the trail had become cold, at least until Draco Malfoy had entered their office. After studying the file, it became apparent that Moody's longstanding reputation had made it more difficult for him to uncover evidence. He needed help, and Ginny seemed to be an ideal candidate for the job.

He needed a spy.

The next evening, she walked into the Purple Raven Tavern, just off of Diagon Alley, wearing a rather short skirt and form-fitting blouse. Removing her cloak, she shook off the cold and looked around at the occupants of the pub. The place was reputable enough, but the atmosphere seemed just a bit uninviting. The clientele were well-dressed, but about half were people that Ginny easily identified from Moody's files. Just as Moody had said, it seemed that many of those who had once been allied with Voldemort were now attempting to hide their affiliation by frequenting the more reputable establishments, and the Purple Raven was a particularly popular choice.

The problem with the Purple Raven, was that it was also frequented by a number of younger Ministry officials, so it was rather apparent that some were attempting to buy enough favor to keep themselves out of Azkaban.

All she needed to do was socialize, watch for anyone who might be suspicious and try to listen in to their conversations.

It wasn't hard to identify the small group of wizards in the corner who had recently graduated from Hogwarts. Their youth and boisterous nature were obvious enough, but Draco Malfoy's blond hair always seemed to stand out in any crowd. He wasn't her target, but she had a feeling that the group that he was associating with might contain one or two individuals who likely might have information that would be of interest. It seemed as good a group to start with as any.

She approached cautiously, settling herself at the bar and ordering a drink while trying not to appear that she was paying too much attention to the group. After ordering a drink, she turned so that she could catch as much of their conversation as possible.

Unfortunately, everything she heard was rather mundane. They talked about sports, work, and a little gossip about their friends. She tried to focus in on the gossip, hoping that it might provide a clue that would lead her to her suspect. Casting a sidelong glance, she found one of the young men looking back at her. She gave a weak smile and turned back to her drink.

A few moments later, he joined her at the bar. "New here?" a confident voice asked.

She nodded, looking up at the rather attractive man. "I suppose so," she replied. She wasn't certain that he would be her most suitable choice, but, still, any of the group might be helpful to her. Any one of them might have the information that she needed, if she could gain their confidence.

"Marcus Flint," he said with a smile.

"Ginny Weasley," she replied, nodding slightly, but not quite smiling in return. She remembered Flint. He had gone to Hogwarts and had been captain of the Slytherin team, but he was several years older than she, so they hadn't known each other in school. He was a good candidate.

They talked for a short while about trivial things, such as weather, Quidditch and the like. When it came to the subject of work, she gave an appropriately vague, yet truthful, cover.

"I work as an office assistant in one of the basement archives."

The dark haired man smiled. It seemed to be a genuine smile, but she could catch a hint of an opportunistic expression in his face, like one that a used cauldron dealer might give.

"Really?" He replied, his look showing interest. "Good place, if you can get in there these days. It seems they've gotten rather picky at hiring. Though, one would think they wouldn't want to hide a girl as attractive as you in the lower levels," he said with a wink.

She smiled politely at the compliment. "Well, I only started recently, and since I haven't finished NEWTs, I expect it will take me a bit longer to work my way up."

"It's all in who you know.," he responded knowingly. "You're in the right place if you're looking for that," he said, waving his hand around the room. "It's the popular place to be to make contacts these days. Of course, we all help each other along, if you know what I mean," he said, casually, lifting his drink to his lips with another appreciative smile. "You know, I happen to have a friend or two in the Ministry that might put in a good word for you."

She thought she might be making progress, when their conversation was rudely interrupted by Draco Malfoy. He practically inserted himself between the pair, facing her and ignoring Flint entirely.

"What are you doing here, Weasley?" His tone was ice cold, and it matched the look in his eyes. Although she'd had a short conversation with him in the office, she realized that she hadn't been so physically close to him since she'd hexed him just over two years prior. For some reason, his nearness put her body on edge.

She stiffened. Malfoy was likely to ruin this. He had no idea that her purpose was to investigate the murder case, and, even when she'd identified him with the group, she'd fully expected that he would just ignore her. She looked between the two men trying to come up with a way to get rid of Malfoy, but then Flint laughed. "I should have known, Malfoy."

Ginny was confused, and extremely annoyed and disappointed that her prey, Flint, then moved off to rejoin his friends, leaving her at the bar with the blond. She scowled, staring after Flint and trying to figure out how she might rekindle their conversation.

Unfortunately, Malfoy seemed determined to keep her from her task. He pulled her aside, away from the bar, his hand gripping her arm just a bit too tightly, and she winced. He didn't seem to care.

"What are you doing here?" he asked again, his voice low and gruff.

It was strange being so close to him. He was near enough that his body was nearly touching hers and, despite the fact that she'd hated him for years, she couldn't help but notice that he had grown into a very handsome man. That, coupled with the fact that she had actually felt a small shred of sympathy for him over the recent murder of his father, prevented her from hexing him in the same manner she'd done while she was in school.

"What do you care?" she answered with a challenge to her voice. She needed information, and this group of young men were likely the best route. She needed to be friendly to gain the confidence of at least one of them, and Malfoy was ruining it for her. "I'm here to blow off steam. It's none of your business how I choose to do that."

His eyes bored into hers, as if trying to judge the truthfulness of her statement. "You're playing some game that's too big for you little Weasel. You want information, but I'm warning you now, the only thing you'll get out of Flint is a bad reputation."

Her eyes narrowed in anger. "I don't know what you are talking about. I'm a low ranked Ministry employee and this is the place to meet people and make contacts to move up. Even you know that."

"You belong in school," he stated, releasing her arm roughly.

Echoes of her last year at Hogwarts popped into her head. Memories of long detentions with the Carrows, where she'd been hit by torture spells from a variety of eager future Death Eaters, a diary that had nearly ruined her, the blank, empty eyes of her beloved brother...

Her eyes snapped back from the momentary distraction of her memories, her eyes flashing with anger and a bit too much honesty. "I'd rather die than set foot in that place ever again," she snarled at him. She caught herself, and sucked in a breath, trying to regain a measure of self-control. Then, after a moment of processing exactly what she'd just said, she bit her lip, because she realized that she'd just accidentally said something to Malfoy that she hadn't admitted to anyone, not even herself.

A look of understanding flashed over his features, mixed with a hint of surprise. His body language shifted, and she found herself taken aback. It was as if he had understood.

"It doesn't explain why you're here, talking with this bunch. Won't Potter be missing his girlfriend?"he said nastily, and his face twisted into the familiar sneer that she'd come to associate with him.

She crossed her arms and gave him a look of disgust. "The schoolboy taunts are getting old, Malfoy. And, for the record, I've had enough of his sort, if you must know."

Again, she cursed herself for being a bit too honest, but she didn't want anyone thinking that she was with Harry, so admitting it was not a bad thing. If they thought she was still dating Harry, they'd likely be less accepting of her.

His eyebrow lifted in interest. "So, you want to play with the big boys now?" he asked, his tone mocking.

Yes, so she'd skipped out on her last year of school, but his tone brought back the reasons why she'd left her family for a bit, which was because she was tired of being treated like an innocent little girl. She decided that she needed to take control of the conversation. "I might ask you the same question, Malfoy. What are you doing here? This bunch might be your old school mates, but your family isn't exactly considered trustworthy by anyone these days."

His eyes darkened in anger. "Are you insinuating something?"

"Maybe," she replied. "I do work in an Archive after all." She needed information, and this man was likely a key to what his father knew that led to him being killed. She decided to provoke him further. "There are rumors about why your father was killed."

He stepped closer, clearly shaken. "If you know something, I suggest you tell me, or I'll let Flint back here."

She lifted her chin. "I can handle myself."

He leaned in closer, one arm resting on the wall beside her head, caging her in, and, once again, she seemed to realize how close he was. She wasn't accustomed to that. She'd been holding people at bay for months, but, almost against her will, her body reacted to his closeness. His intimidation was different from the type of authority she was accustomed to from her family, teachers, and elders, but, she refused to let it intimidate her. She felt furious, and let every ounce of it show in her expression. "I'm not here to play."

One corner of his mouth lifted, not quite in a smile, not quite a smirk but his eyes matched the challenge that showed in hers. "Perhaps you'd like to prove that."

She lifted her chin, saying nothing and he seemed to take that as an opening. Without warning, he leaned in and kissed her firmly, almost roughly. It was a challenge, daring her to back down. Something in her snapped, and she felt an eagerness to release. The concept of kissing him was alien, forbidding, and completely unexpected. There was something captivating about the way his mouth felt against hers. She was surprised, but the spark from their argument had fired something within her.

She returned the pressure that he was impressing upon her mouth, returning the dare he'd issued. It had been over six months since the battle of Hogwarts, and in that entire time, she'd felt like she'd been sleepwalking. Now, this unlikely individual was calling her out of her out of her hibernation.

He pulled away from the kiss and, without warning, he Apparated the pair of them out of the pub and into a fairly large room. She pulled her attention away from him only long enough to give the area a brief glance. They were in what was apparently a flat, and the room they'd transported to was large and tastefully decorated. She barely had time to notice that much because, only moments after they'd recovered from the disorientation from Apparition, his hands cupped her face, his fingers just under her ears and burrowing into her thick hair. She barely caught a glimpse of the intensity in his grey eyes before his lips once again crashed onto hers.

She considered a protest but as his fingers moved from her hair to her neck, fingering along her collarbone, she found that the only emotion overtaking her was passion. Just as with the earlier kiss in the bar, the power and intensity grounded her in a way she hadn't felt in months.

Refusing to be passive, she met his kisses with equal fervor, sensing that he wanted the diversion just as much as she did. It was a strange connection borne of mutual need.


	3. Chapter 3 Accepting the Challenge

A/N - Dear Readers,

This chapter is mostly a continuation of Chapter 2. I broke it out as a separate chapter because it was not part of the original post. Also, this chapter earns the story its "Mature" rating. If you wish for a more tame story, you can skip this chapter and it will not affect the rest of the story. As always, your reviews are very appreciated.

The moment of interruption during their transport almost gave her enough pause to reconsider the sanity of her actions. She was making out with a boy – no a man – who she barely knew, who she'd hated and distrusted for as long as she could remember.

By all rights, she should have nothing to do with him in this way, but the fleeting thought was ripped away by his next series of kisses, which were shockingly soft and slow and incredibly intoxicating. He tangled his fingers in her hair, guiding her face to turn up toward his and she caught a glimpse of his perfectly shaped lips as they descended on hers. Once again, she matched him, making it a competition to see which of them might back away first.

They stood there, in his rather nicely furnished room, snogging for an obscenely long time. Neither willing to break the stalemate, both willing the other to back down from the challenge that had been issued in the pub. Their hands remained wrapped firmly about each other's waists, each exploring the other through savory kisses, neither wanting to be the first to back away.

It was Ginny who first moved their interaction to another level. Driven by curiosity, she started teasing him by running her hands up and down his shirt, feeling the hardness of his back then his sides through the soft, expensive material. It began as a dare, forcing his hand in the challenge he'd issued by telling her she belonged back in school. But his hands quickly echoed her movements, moving from a rather chaste position at her waist to her hair, then slowly trailing down her neck and eventually tracing along the outer curve of her breast. She was completely fixated on each subtle movement of his fingers, and she felt her stomach flutter uncontrollably, almost distracting her from the kiss but, with extreme willpower, she continued to kiss him, exploring his mouth hungrily.

Goodness knew that this had started as part of a challenge, but she was rapidly becoming aware that there was something more to it than that. There was something about him, even as he dared her to go farther, that compelled her to continue. Every part of her body became hyper-aware of every movement and she couldn't help but notice that he wasn't as rough or harsh as she'd expected. If anything, his actions were deliberate and unhurried and his touch held a hint of gentleness and reverence combined with raw need.

She nearly froze when she realized that the feeling that had overtaken her was passion.

She'd never really understood passion before this and the emotions that started coursing through her seemed to reach down into her gut. It filled a gaping hole that she'd had inside of her for far too long and, with a profound astonishment, she realized that she wanted more. For the moment, nothing existed except the feeling of his arms holding her close and it felt as if he was holding her from an emotional collapse, his own raw energy almost channeling into her with each kiss and caress. It was like a drug.

With a deep sigh, she pulled away from his kiss to take in a deep breath and look at him in an attempt to figure out what had come over her. Her chest heaved as she tried to suck in deep gulps of air, trying to draw in enough oxygen to power herself. She took in the sight of the man standing in front of her, thinking that it was as if he was someone she'd never seen before. His eyes were dark and wild and something in them showed a person who seemed a bit lost and was desperately searching for something. In a way, it was a reflection of herself.

She came to the realization that it was suddenly too warm in the room. Without even thinking, she unfastened the top button of her blouse in an attempt to help herself breathe a bit, and she attempted to take in air, still watching him intently, her chest heaving with every ragged breath.

It took her only a moment to realize that if she'd been trying to cool things down, her action had given the exact opposite effect.

His eyes riveted to the now empty buttonhole and the very modest amount of skin that was now exposed. A low groan escaped from him and the sound seemed to echo right through her core as his mouth dove toward the hollow of her throat. Without even thinking, she tilted her head back to allow him access.

One of his hands skimmed under her shirt while the other held her close, his tongue tickling along her throat in a deliciously sensual way. Her hands were somewhat passively pressed up against his chest while his lips moved along her neck, under her ear, causing a tingling sensation to echo through her body like a wave. She waited for him to say something taunting, something that might break the spell between the two of them, but he didn't. Instead, his insistent worship of her neck seemed to press forward the challenge that he'd issued earlier. He was waiting for her to stop, to ask him to back down, and she refused to do that.

Her hands moved under his shirt to match his exploration. While she traced his shoulder, and down his ribs, his hands moved to unfasten the remaining buttons along the front of her blouse. She watched his hands, noticing how delicate and deliberate his actions were. As the garment opened, he slowly slipped it off her shoulders and dropped her arms allowing it to slide down and drop to the floor. At the moment, the logic of losing the item made perfect sense, because she was so warm that she welcomed the coolness of the air on her body.

Nevertheless, the action pressed the dare further. Not one to be out done, she began kissing him again to distract him while she reached both hands under his shirt, grasping the base of the garment and tugging it upward. He responded by releasing her long enough to tug the item over his head and shrug it off, tossing it aside before quickly reaching his arms around her again, as if he didn't want her to get too far away from him. It was oddly comforting.

Much as he took in the sight of her earlier, she did the same, taking in the elegant lines of his neck and the curve of his shoulder. Almost shyly, her gaze moved to his torso and she could tell that he held his breath, standing rigidly still under her examination. He was like a statue of Adonis, carved from the finest marble. Unconsciously, she licked her lips.

She leaned in, suddenly eager to run her tongue along the smooth base of his neck, just as he'd done to her earlier, tasting her way along each curve, breathing in the scent of him. Her ministrations were interrupted when she felt him release the clasp of her bra, and she drew back, slowly drawing her gaze up along his jaw and up to his eyes, once again seeing challenge there. She narrowed her eyes, realizing that he fully expected her to run away. So, she did the only thing that made sense; she stepped back, letting the straps slip from her shoulders and the bra to fall on the ground and was rewarded by the sight of his eyes widening in surprise and his jaw dropping open as his gaze dropped downward.

She caught a bead of sweat along the side of his face before his full attention was riveted on her newly exposed torso.

His arms once again wrapped around her and he quickly dropped to his knees, his mouth nuzzling each breast in turn, his tongue circling the tip of one lobe then working his way to the other, sending a tingle through her body that went right to her toes. She buried her hands in his hair, watching him work with fascination.

Then, he looked up at her, his eyes dark with lust and did something she'd never imagined Draco Malfoy doing. He smiled. It was a small smile, but so genuine that she froze for a moment.

She cradled his head, stroking the fine, soft strands of hair, thinking that all the kisses and awkward groping that she'd experimented with her previous boyfriends had never been nearly so intense, but then, when she was younger she'd never known the loneliness that she'd felt in the past few months.

Still looking up at her with that small smile, he reached for the fastening of her skirt. It was the open honesty of that smile that captivated her to the point that she forgot that the faded remains of the Dark Mark were on his arm. Even as he tugged her skirt down, he was asking permission, his eyes giving a glimpse of hopefulness.

Helpless to refuse him, she allowed the skirt to drop to the floor, stepping out of the puddle of fabric and kicking her shoes off, vaguely registering that they flew somewhat randomly about the room.

His smile faded as he stood back up, and she caught the doubt in his eyes. He was hesitating and she was reminded of the way he'd looked at her when he'd told her to go back to school. With profound certainty, she realized that she wanted none of that.

She took a firm hold of his belt buckle and yanked the item free, not breaking eye contact with him. The look of surprise on his face was almost comical, but she continued, working the zipper of his pants and tugging the garment down before she had a chance to lose her nerve.

He groaned as her hands brushed against him and the hesitation left his eyes, once again replaced by raw lust. Once free of his trousers, he leaned down to kiss her hungrily again and the lust clouded her mind as well. When his hands slid down to cup the roundness of her bum, she practically jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around him.

He needed no further prodding to carry her toward his bedroom, never breaking the kiss that seemed to devour her whole. When he deposited her carefully on the bed, she refused to unwrap her legs from his waist and pulled him with her. He fell rather awkwardly over her, using his arms to stop himself a bare inch above her and once again locked gazes, the tension between them giving off an energy that Ginny literally felt coursing through her veins.

He paused, leaning over her, resting on his elbows, once again pushing the dare, silently asking her if she was ready to quit the game. She stared back at him solidly, giving a slight shake of her head, but releasing her hold on him. Licking his lips, he lifted himself off he began to back off of her slowly, and she felt an overwhelming disappointment wash over her. She watched him move away, seeing that his eyes were taking in every inch of her as he moved back. His hands traced his movement, sending electric tingles through her body as they slid along her sides. Then, much to her surprise, his hands moved to grasp her knickers, pulling them off as he backed away.

She lifted her hips slightly to allow him to complete the action more easily and panted heavily, almost shocked by her own willingness. She hadn't expected the challenge to go quite so far. She'd expected him to quit by this time, and she fully realized that she was now naked on his bed and hungry as hell for him. Once again, she lifted her chin, daring him to back down, simultaneously hoping and fearing that he would.

He licked his lips again and dropped his boxers, never breaking eye contact with her. He was now standing in front of her, stark naked, and she had to admit that he was a beautiful and imposing sight. She slowly moved back toward the center of the bed, watching him advance on her like a panther on its prey as he crawled along to position himself on top of her.

They said nothing, both realizing that words would only ruin the moment of intensity between them. Her body was literally humming as he pressed his naked body against hers and, once again, claimed her lips in a searingly passionate kiss. She hadn't felt this alive in months, and she desperately did not want it to end.

Hands roamed. She wanted to feel every part of him, almost to convince herself that this was real, and he explored her body just as eagerly. He moved his kisses back down to her breasts, the points tight and sensitive with arousal, while his hand reached down between her legs to stroke her into readiness, although she was already soaked with need for him. When his finger slipped inside of her, she moaned, rocking, begging him for more.

"God, Ginevra," he mumbled, alternating between kisses to her face and torso and watching her body stiffen with want beneath him, gently stroking her until she climaxed. When she finally shuddered in release, she hung onto him, moaning with passion, and ending limp and weak and completely at his mercy.

Her hair was damp, a few tendrils sticking to her face and neck, and down along her sweat-covered breast. He moved them away, almost chuckling softly at the sight of her lying in such a docile manner in his arms. She might have argued, except that she felt far too sated and spent.

That was when he settled himself on top of her, cradling himself between her legs. Again, the challenge flashed in his eyes, the dare for her to say no. Her only answer was to lift her knees, tilting her hips toward his eager arousal. She caught another flicker of surprise in his eyes and he panted heavily, obviously in an internal struggle for several seconds while he considered ending the dare and leaving her there. Hoping to interrupt him before he reached a conclusion, she brought a hand up to the back of his head, once again threading her fingers through the impossibly soft strands and pulled herself up to kiss him fiercely, ending any chance of him making any kind of clear-headed decision. His body sunk down and rested on top of her almost in defeat, and he slid himself into her in one solid thrust, breaking the last barrier between them.

He almost looked apologetic, another expression that she never thought she'd see on his face, but the look was quickly replaced by the dark-eyed lust that they both were sharing. She raised her hips meeting his thrusts, her hands continuing to touch and explore him as they rocked together in an age-old dance. She focused on the feeling of him inside of her, part of her aching with fatigue but another part not wanting it to end.

Eventually, it did, and she felt compelled to hold him while he shuddered and released, emptying himself into her, moaning her name softly as he did. When he collapsed on top of her in an exhausted heap, she held him, feeling that he needed her in that moment almost as much as she needed him.

He gently moved off of her, collapsing by her side. Before she could think to move away, he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close and it was surprisingly comforting. He closed his eyes, almost immediately drifting off to sleep.

She turned in his loose embrace to observe him for a few moments. He lay there, breathing softly, his face relaxed in sleep, making him look impossibly young and innocent and she couldn't resist reaching a hand up to smooth the damp fringe of hair off his forehead.

She'd seen the pain and sorrow in his eyes during several unguarded moments during their tryst. Now that the lust had cleared from her mind, she was able to analyze why that look had triggered her emotions so profoundly. It was the same look that she had seen in her own eyes every morning when she looked in the mirror. She realized that it had been a similar need for companionship and escape that had brought them together.

She reached for the sheet and pulled it up over the both of them, catching sight of the faded Dark Mark on his arm. Her hand stopped and she paused to stare at it for moment, thinking that it should bother her that she'd chosen him of all people to be with during her moment of weakness. He disrupted her thoughts by choosing that instant to sleepily snuggle closer to her, and she decided that it was something to think about at a later time. She'd seen humanity in him and, for now, that was enough. Feeling the comfort of his arm around her, she drifted off into a deep and surprisingly peaceful sleep.


	4. Chapter 4  Chasing the Prime Suspect

A/N - Thank you in advance for your reviews! They mean a great deal to me, and really inspire me to write better. To answer some questions: This story has been completed and was part of a fic exchange so, with the exception of chapter 3, this story is about the same (with some minor corrections and modifications).

She woke up the next morning in a strange bedroom, feeling both sore and sated.

She rolled onto her back and placed both palms over her eyes, as if hiding from the situation might make it go away. What would her parents think of her? She was supposed to be a good girl; Harry Potter's girl. Yet, somehow, she didn't quite care. Granted, it wasn't exactly typical of her to go off and sleep with a man she barely knew, or any man for that matter but, when she looked back on how it had come about and how she'd enjoyed the night, she couldn't truly bring herself to feel guilty. The attraction, the connection she'd felt with Malfoy had been genuine, and their tryst had managed to fill a deep need that had been gnawing at her for months.

For all her dislike of him, Malfoy had at least been quite real, although she'd had no idea that he was what she'd needed. It hadn't been until he'd confronted her, challenged her, and finally kissed her that she'd understood that she'd needed the raw, physical closeness.

She supposed she should be grateful to him for satisfying that need but this was Malfoy, after all. She tried to hate him, but her anger fell flat. Despite the Dark Mark on his arm, he and his family had done the right things at the end of the Battle of Hogwarts. Harry had testified on the Malfoy family's behalf, and Lucius's death had given further evidence to the fact that the family was not blindly loyal to Voldemort or his followers.

Now that it was morning, it was time for her to get back to her life, or what there was of it. Her purpose, for the time-being, was to find out who was responsible for killing his father, nothing more.

Taking one last look at his rather attractive form, the lower half of his body barely covered by the sheet, she slipped out of the bed and began to gather her scattered pieces of clothing.

Several minute later, she was fully dressed, but was distracted, looking for her other shoe in the lounge. As a result, she didn't notice him enter the room, so, when his hand rested on her shoulder, she nearly screamed in fright.

However, the sound was silenced before it could leave her throat because, when she turned to look at him, she thought that he looked more beautiful awake than he did when he was sleeping. The sound died in her throat in awe. His hair was still tousled, his chest still bare, but his eyes, normally so intense, looked softer than she'd ever seen.

"You were leaving?"

"I thought it was best," she responded, feeling almost sorry when she saw the look of disappontment on his face.

His expression was tired, almost worn, and she realized that there was something different about him that she'd never noticed before. He appeared thoughtful and he drew a deep breath, as if to speak and she waited, thinking of how unusual it was for him to be at a loss for words.

"Before you go, tell me..." he finally said. " You said there were rumors about why my father was killed. Tell me what you know."

She hadn't been expecting such a question, and wasn't quite sure how to answer. Thinking that it was best to be as vague about what she knew as possible, she tried to come up with something that might seem plausible. She stared at him dumbly for several seconds before finally stammering, "The Aurors are looking into it..."

His expression changed in a heartbeat at her weak answer from earnest to angry. "Fuck the Aurors!" he growled harshly.

She jumped slightly at his outburst, watching his hands clench into fists.

He glared at her. "They don't give a damn about my father. As far as the new Ministry is concerned, he was just another dead Death Eater and they are glad to be rid of him. If somebody thinks otherwise, I need to know!"

He paused, obviously still angry, but apparently trying to calm himself as he waited for her answer.

Perhaps it was the honesty in his expression that made her want to give him the information. Not that she knew very much. She was certain that Moody hadn't told her everything., but something deep in her gut told her that she had to give Malfoy something.

She took a deep breath, wondering if she was betraying Moody's trust by sharing even this small bit. Her job was to gather information, not give it out. "I heard that, maybe, your father had a lot of information about Voldemort's followers. They didn't trust him, because your family changed sides, so they killed him."

His shoulders slumped and the anger and frustration seemed to drain from him and she noticed that she couldn't see any trace of the boy she'd once thought of as an icy bully. His father had only been killed a few months ago and, she was certain that, like herself dealing with the grief of losing her brother, the blond was having similar feelings about losing his father. It was a strange epiphany. She had something in common with Draco Malfoy, aside from the fact that they'd just shared a passionate night together.

He finally broke the silence that hung heavily between them. "Your rumors are disturbingly close to the truth," he said calmly.

She sucked in a breath. She hadn't been expecting to get information out of him quite so readily. "But, do you know what he knew?"

The blond shook his head. "That's why I'm playing up to Flint and his friends right now. I'm not joking, Weasely. He's trouble. You have no business with him."

Her eyes narrowed in determination. "Does he know who was behind Lucius's murder?"

"I think I've told you too much already," he said abruptly, turning away. "You should go."

The rebuff surprised her. He'd just been opening up and she desperately wanted to keep him talking. She pulled out the only thing she could think of that might press the small connection she currently seemed to have. She decided to use his first name.

"Draco, please..."

He looked back, his expression surprised at the use of his given name. It was something that simply had never been done before. But the surprise quickly faded to something more like determination.

"Ginevra, it is in your best interest that you stay out of this." With that, he opened the door of the flat, coldly gesturing for her to exit.

"No, Draco. I can help you," she said quickly. Something about him had made a connection with her, and she fully realized that he wasn't as cold as she'd always thought him to be. He was human and hurting over the death of his father. She could relate to that loss. She felt she was really reaching him and decided to bait him with the only other piece of information that she had.

"I can help you," she repeated, ignoring his blank expression. "If you tell me what you know, I can get it to the right people. They'll be able to find whoever killed your father."

His gaze turned cold, and her heart sank. "What is your job, Ginevra? Why are you getting involved in this? And, don't lie to me."

She took a deep breath. She'd given away too much, but his body language and expression throughout their short conversation had convinced her that, indeed, her words had hit close to mark. Malfoy wasn't talking because he was worried that whoever had been responsible for killing his father wouldn't hesitate to kill him or his mother also. She didn't know what to say. Finally, she said softly, "You saw me. I'm an office assistant in the Archives."

He said nothing, but continued to hold the door open. After several seconds, the silence became uncomfortable. Determining that he had no further intention of speaking, she left, feeling more than a little awkward.

One thing that she'd learned from her encounter with Malfoy, the conversational part of her encounter, at least, was that he wanted her to stay away from Flint. She went back to Moody and relayed the conversations to him. He agreed. Flint seemed to be a key in solving the mystery.

It didn't take her long to find her quarry. Attempting to appear casual, she walked into one of the shops on the fringe of Knockturn Alley, hoping to catch a glimpse of Marcus Flint, desperately hoping that Malfoy interrupting their conversation in the pub had not spoiled her chances to get closer to the dark haired wizard.

The shop she'd seen Flint enter was a curiosity shop, with books, cheap trinkets and a random assortment of cheap colognes and love potions on the shelves. The proprietor was a haggard looking old witch, who eyed Ginny with lewd suspicion as she entered the shop, making her feel uncomfortable. It was hardly a place that Ginny would normally frequent, but it had enough of an assortment of colorful amulets that Ginny was able to give the appearance of being an actual customer.

Unfortunately, Flint was nowhere in sight.

"Looking for an amulet to help you draw a young man's attention?" the old hag behind the counter inquired as Ginny scanned the items in the case.

"Well, not exactly," she answered, looking at the somewhat gaudy items that the witch was inviting her to peruse.

The old hag looked at her strangely for amoment before speaking. "Aye, I know exactly what ya want," the witch stated knowingly.

Unbidden, an image of Malfoy came to her and a warmth spread in her gut as she recalled the feel of his body against hers, distracting Ginny completely from her task. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts, but then realized that part of her muddled distraction was because the old hag,who was still staring intently at her, seemed to be attempting to draw the information out of her mind.

Ginny fought the momentary lapse in her control and looked down at that seedy old witch. Constant vigilance. Ginny had forgotten to be vigilant for those moments when she was distracted by the baubles. The hag appeared disappointed that Ginny had blocked her attempt to prod into Ginny's thoughts, and subsequently her reason for being in the shop, but still attempted to give Ginny an unnerving smile as she motioned toward the case. "My wares are the best, you know. Fair price too."

She looked at the items, then pointed to something that looked rather odd. "What is that?"

"Giant's toenail," the hag explained seriously, with a bit of a twinkle in her eye. "Used in potions to enhance the male performance, if ye ken what I mean."

Unsure if the witch truly knew what she was in the shop for, and not wanting to continue that particular conversation, Ginny motioned toward the shelves of books behind her. "I think I might just start with one of the romance novels," she said.

"Aye..." the old witch replied with a hint of disappointment Then, she jerked her head toward a door in the back of the shop. "E'll be out shortly. I ken ye will want 'im ta catch sight of ye," she said with a knowing smile, showing a mouthful of rotted teeth. "If ye don' catch 'is eye, come back 'ere, and I'll find ye the right potion to 'elp 'im along."

So, the witch had noticed that she'd followed Flint into the store. That was not good. However, she breathed a sigh of relief that the witch only seemed to assume that she'd followed Flint in for romantic reasons.

Ginny turned back to the shelves of books, trying to appear interested in the trashy titles. She couldn't let the woman think that she was following Flint. Casually meeting him in a store or along the street was one thing, but following and waiting for him was another.

A charm that Moody had recently taught her came to mind.

Without hesitation, Ginny raised her wand. "Muto Memoria," she uttered softly. When the hag took on a slightly confused expression, indicating that the spell had taken effect, Ginny did her best to think of a tall, brown-haired young witch, a cross between two or three Slytherin girls that she remembered and, using the spell, projected the thought into the old hag's mind. If it worked correctly, the older witch would remember their interaction, but her memory would recall a tall brunette in the shop instead of Ginny. It was a more subtle spell, less obvious than an Confundus, and probably far more effective.

She then hurried out of the shop, glancing carefully back to check that nobody had come out of the back room to see what she'd done. Unfortunately, she was so distracted by the inside of the shop, that she failed to look ahead, and found herself colliding with a tall body.

"Ummph," she grunted.

"You are as eloquent as ever, Weasley," she heard the person say and, with dread, she realized it was Malfoy.

She tried to back away, but his hands quickly reached out to capture her arms. Looking up, she saw the blond looking coldly down at her. Two nights ago, she'd been in bed with him, and she struggled to correlate the warm lover with the cold man she saw before her now. She truly wondered if it had been the same man. For the dozenth time since she left his flat, she questioned why she'd felt compelled to spend that night with him.

She was also quite certain that bumping into him on the street had not been a random occurrence. "What do you want, Draco?" She used his first name deliberately. It held the power of familiarity.

"You're following Flint," he stated flatly.

Her shoulders slumped in defeat. Could she have been that obvious about what she had been doing by going into the shop? If so, her job of working for Moody was going to be extremely short-lived.

"None of your business," she stated firmly.

His mouth twitched. "I warned you to stay clear of him. It will only bring trouble."

She frowned. He still was holding her in place by the arms, and she debated about trying to hex him to break free. There was more intensity in his eyes than coldness now, and she found herself trying to read why. "What does it matter to you? Are you jealous that I might be more interested in Marcus than you?"

His eyes darkened with anger and he shook her slightly. "Stay away from him, Weasley. He'll ruin you."

"If you know so much, then tell me what you know about him, so I don't have to get it out of him myself," she demanded.

He released her abruptly, so quickly, in fact, that she nearly lost her balance. "There are some things best left alone," he said, and looked away.

Catching a hint of softening in his stance, she tried to press. "Don't you want the person who killed your father to go to prison?"

He looked back up at her. "It's not a question of that. Don't be a fool."

His tone irked her, so she barked back at him. "Then go back to Moody and tell him everything you know. He knows you held back something."

His eyes flashed with anger. "That's the problem with you little Gryffs," he said. "You think everything is so black or white. It's never that easy."

Realizing she'd get nothing useful out of him if he was angry, she took a deep breath trying to calm the both of them. "I don't understand, then. Why are you warning me off of talking to him? What does it matter to you?"

He released a short, "hmmph" and shook his head, looking at her as if he considered her to be quite dim. "Because if you keep this up, you'll likely make a mess of things, and I don't want to have to step in to rescue you. I'm not that type."

He walked away, leaving her to ponder his words. Like it or not, she seemed to keep crossing the younger Malfoy's path, and he was certainly a key to the mystery. So was Flint. She stood there, arms crossed and aimlessly focussing on the cobblestones at her feet, trying to think of what she needed to do next, when she felt someone walking up behind her.

She looked up quickly, thinking that Malfoy had returned, but instead, she was almost disappointed to see Marcus Flint, who had apparently finished with his business in the rear chamber of the shop and had caught sight of her in the street.

He was grinning.

"Lover's quarrel?" he asked, with a glint of almost harsh humor in his eyes.

"What?" she replied, then, she pieced together that he'd likely seen some of her interaction with Malfoy. Twice now, Flint had seen her and Malfoy in some sort of argument, and actually, the comment about the being lovers was at least partially correct.

"He's not my boyfriend," she responded quickly.

The look of amusement on Flint's face seemed to increase. "Ahh. Ex-boyfriend, then?"

She gave a deep sigh, not quite wanting to explain. She didn't need to. Flint seemed more than happy to fill it in himself.

"He would be the jealous type, I expect. He's only had his eye on you for the past two years."

"Excuse me?"

Flint laughed, clearly amused by his personal view of the situation. "Never mind,. I think I've said too much."

She'd come to this area hoping to run into Flint, and now that she had him, she was unsure how to proceed. She gave him a tentative smile. "Draco seems rather insistent about me not speaking to you."

Flint's eyes darkened, and his mouth lifted in a smile. "He always has been rather selfish."

Ginny nodded in agreement. "It would seems so, but I'd rather not talk about him, if you don't mind."

The wizard's smile widened. "Agreed. There are much better things to talk about." Then, Flint looked thoughtful for a moment and seemed to come up with an idea. "Say, will you be going to the Ministry Christmas Party?" he asked.

She hadn't really thought about the party, or Christmas. She'd been ignoring the world around her for so long that she hadn't considered what she might do for the holidays.

The dark-haired wizard didn't seem to wait for her answer. "Perhaps I'll see you there?" he suggested. He wasn't exactly asking for a date, but he was certainly offering an invitation, and that was an opening that Ginny had been hoping for. It seemed that Flint had been intrigued by the idea of annoying Malfoy. Apparently, her interaction with the blond hadn't been detrimental after all.

Flint took her hand in an almost cavalier way and she forced herself to relax and accept the gesture. "It's been a pleasure running into you," he said, lifting her hand to lay a kiss to her knuckles.

She nodded, almost unable to believe her luck. She'd followed Flint, hoping to continue a conversation with him, and now she had another opportunity. Feeling that she was definitely making progress, she gave herself a smile and turned to head back toward work.

Moody acquired funds for her to buy an appropriate garment for the event and Ginny chose it carefully. She needed to continue to keep Flint's interest, and the red dress that she chose would certainly have earned her mother's stern disapproval.

She didn't care. She had an opportunity to get closer to whoever was in the Ministry and getting information from Flint was definitely a key to finding who that person might be. Flint's meeting inside the shop was of little interest to Moody. He was well aware that the back room of the shop housed meetings with a variety of low characters, but Flint's friends were likely to give some insight on who might have hired him. A party was an ideal chance to see people that Flint considered important and, being a paryt, there was always the chance that Flint and his friends might consume a bit too much alcohol and, as a result, might drop names a bit loosely.

She put on the pair of strappy heels that she bought with the dress, and a cloak to keep herself warm, then Apparated to meet her informal "date".

The gathering was bigger than she'd imagined, and even better than she'd hoped. While it was a Christmas party, it was paired with a fundraiser for Crawford Stern, former Minister of Internal Affairs, who was hoping to promote some of his protegees for public office.

Stern was a jovial man, who seemed to get along with everyone, reminding her eerily of Professor Slughorn, although Stern wasn't as likable. Where Slughorn was basically a harmless man who simply lived for making influential contacts so that he could get small perks and drop names in casual conversation, Stern was a bit more politically motivated. He seemed to prefer making contacts with people who were influential in the Ministry, or held strong promise of being influential. While he gave an outward appearance of being friendly and easy-going, Ginny got the impression that he had a clear agenda. Flint seemed to be on rather friendly terms with him, and had insisted on her meeting the man, mentioning something about getting Ginny promoted out of the Archives.

She followed Flint around for most of the evening, meeting several of his friends, listening in on a half-dozen conversations, and learning absolutely nothing.

Finally, the party seemed to be nearing an end, and Ginny was grateful. She was standing next to Flint while he was talking to one of Stern's Assistants, when Flint suddenly let out an annoyed grunt. She followed his gaze to the corner of the room and noticed none other than Draco Malfoy, looking rather dashing in his dress robes, talking with a small group.

She couldn't help but stare, although she tried not to. He looked up, saw her beside Flint, and scowled at her. She turned back to Flint and his friend, although a feeling of guilt had suddenly started tugging in her gut.

"Who invited that one? He's got no ties to the Ministry these days," Flint muttered to the man next to him, motioning over to Malfoy.

Stern's assistant made a noise of agreement. "Dunno, but he's got a way of always being around when he's not wanted."

"Well, he'll have one giant of a problem soon enough," he said with a wink to his friend.

That was when the conversation became interesting, although nothing of any consequence was said. It was clear they didn't care for Draco, and that he seemed to be snooping around where he wasn't wanted. If Flint was somehow tied to the suspicious activity that Moody had been tracking, it seemed that Stern's assistant might be one of the Ministry contacts that might also be corrupt. Ginny tried to memorize every detail of what they said, or more specifically, what they seemed to speak around, although she tried her best to outwardly appear to be a bit tipsy and not interested.

Not long after, Flint excused himself politely, saying that he had business to attend to, leaving Ginny on her own.

She decided to find herself a quiet location and observe Stern's assistant for a while.

Unfortunately, just as she'd gotten herself settled in a good spot, and was trying to unobtrusively deploy an extendable ear on the man's conversation, she was interrupted.

"You clean up nicely, Weasley."

Malfoy. She reeled in the ear, and made a valiant attempt at controlling her temper.

"I'm busy, Malfoy."

He looked at the device in her hand and shook his head. "You don't really think that someone isn't going to notice that you are trying to listen in to Stern's conversation, are you? It would totally ruin your prospects at getting that promotion that Flint is promising you."

She glared up at him. "I don't care about a promotion and I think you know that."

"Not unless you sleep with Flint and, even then, the only thing you are likely to get is a disease."

She drew in a deep breath and released it, counting slowly. Having an argument with him here would only attract unwanted attention.

Ignoring her lack of response to him, he continued talking. "By the way, where did your date disappear to?" Malfoy asked, looking around the area as if to verify that they were alone.

She needed to get rid of him. Being seen together did not fit in with her plans. "He's not my date and he's talking with Stern right now," she replied with irritation.

He looked at her sceptically. "Right."

"Go away, Malfoy."

He stepped up closer, and she felt herself getting warm. She cursed him for having such an effect on her. She cursed him again because he seemed to be well aware of it. He seemed far too smug.

She felt herself blushing as she remembered her past encounters with him and, not wanting him to see her reaction, she turned away from him, hoping that he would get the message and simply leave.

"The dress really does look good on you, Weasley," he said, stepping up behind her and placing his hands on her hips. "I was thinking it might not be too late to get in a dance."

She turned in his loose embrace. "What is it with you? Can't you see I'm busy?"

His expression fell, and she remembered Flint making a comment about Malfoy fancying her in school. She wondered if there had been some truth to that. Suddenly, she felt a surge of guilt over brushing him off.

"Look, Malfoy, I mean, Draco..." she said carefully, suddenly unsure of how to deal with him. "Can we maybe continue this some other time?"

He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes for several seconds before releasing his hold on her. "You aren't going to listen to me about keeping away from these people."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said, although she had no reason to be sorry to him of all people. "Not unless you can tell me more about why your father was killed. I need to find out who was behind it, and if you won't tell me, then I'll have to find out on my own."

He scowled. "You're playing with fire, Weasley. Don't say I didn't warn you."

He walked away after that and, for some reason, she felt terrible.


	5. Chapter 5  One Bloody Clue

She left the party at the end of the evening feeling confused. Flint had left unexpectedly, although she didn't exactly mind, and Malfoy had disappeared also. She'd searched every area of the gathering, for some reason, trying to seek the blond out, although she wasn't exactly sure why. Worse, she wasn't exactly sure why she felt disappointed when she didn't find him. Remembering how he had swept her away from the pub to his flat, she couldn't help but wonder if he'd found another witch to do the same.

She needed to speak with him. Flint's departure was suspicious, she told herself. Of course, an alternate plan would be to go and find Moody and let him know but, for some reason, she dismissed the thought.

Deciding that she needed to confront Malfoy immediately, she walked purposefully toward his flat. Flint was up to something, possibly to do with the people that Malfoy had mentioned as being part of Voldemort's underground. Malfoy might know where he'd gone and she wanted to know more.

Reaching his door, she knocked firmly, secretly hoping that she was indeed interrupting any illicit activities going on inside. And, no, jealousy played no part in her determined attitude, she thought. After all, she'd only slept with him once, and argued with him on every other encounter, so it was hardly a basis for a relationship.

No answer.

She knocked again, more loudly, and shouted his name as loudly as she dared without attracting the attention of the neighbors. Still, no answer.

After a few attempts, she slumped against the door frame, feeling defeated, when the door opened, causing her to stumble forward onto the immaculate marble tile in the hallway. Barely catching herself from what would have been a rather spectacular fall, she she turned to the opening almost angrily, ready to berate the occupant, because she had quite convinced herself that the reason that the owner had been slow to open the door was due to female companionship.

Instead of seeing Malfoy's blond head, however, she saw nothing. A sound caused her to direct her attention lower and, when she realized that she needed to look downward, she identified a small house elf cowering below.

She took in the sight, attempting to justify that the feeling that was overwhelming her at the moment had nothing to do with jealousy. She drew herself up into a stiff pose, trying to look as prim and professional as possible. "I'm here to see Draco. It's important," she informed the creature, just a bit too sharply.

It looked up at her, big eyes apologetic, and responded rather tersely. "Master is not home."

She blinked, totally taken aback by the creature's words. After a few moments of the pair staring at each other, she finally asked, "When will he be back.?"

The creature studied her for a moment before apparently recognizing her. Then it responded in an almost relieved tone, "Winky not supposed to allow visitors, except Miss Weasley."

She stared at the elf in confusion. Malfoy wasn't home, so where could he be? Then the elf's words seemed to seep into her brain. "I'm the only visitor you are allowed to let in? Why?"

"Master not say," the elf replied carefully.

Regardless of the reservation in the small creature's tone, she felt the urge to press for answers. "Do you know where he went?"

The elf looked at her, as if deciding whether to answer or not. Finally, after giving a deep sigh, it responded, "Master left for the party at half six." Then, it took a small step back, widening the opening of the doorway, as if in as small an invitation as possible. "You may wait for him, if you wish."

An invitation, albeit a reluctant one, somehow put her more at ease. She walked in, plunging her hands into into the pockets of her cloak. It was cold outside, and she decided that waiting inside was far preferable. Surely, the master of the house wouldn't be long, since it was late and the party that they'd both left was quite nearly finished.

That was when she felt something inside the pocket of her cloak, right next to the extendable ear. Fingering the item curiously, she pulled it out and saw that it was a napkin that looked to be covered in some sort of writing. Ignoring the elf's invitation to the small parlor, she examined the napkin more closely under the nearest lamp, noticing that it seemed to have letters on it, written in red. Intrigued, she unfolded the napkin and studied it more closely. After a few moments, her fingers froze as she realized that the red substance was blood.

The napkin contained a single word, written messily in blood. Someone must have slipped it into her pocket while it was in the cloakroom, but, why?

"Giants," she said softly, reading the word out loud. Someone had been desperate enough to write her a message in blood and left it in her cloak pocket.

Draco was not home and he was no longer at the party. Who else would have left her such a note?

She looked about the room and at the confused-looking elf, as if they might provide the answer she was searching for, then looked at the napkin again, but the messy lettering gave no indication of who had written it. She stood in the entryway staring at the item, trying desperately to determine its origin.

Giants. She'd heard mention of them several times. First, when Moody had accused that suspect of working with them. Then when she'd been in the curiosity shop looking for Flint. But the most damning was Flint's casual reference to Stern's assistant, when he mentioned Malfoy about to have a "giant" of a problem. It had been his unusual empahis on the word "giant" that had made the statement memorable.

Winky still stood beside her, waiting expectantly. "Would Miss like Winky to take her cloak?" it asked obediently.

"No," she answered abruptly, causing the elf to jump. She ignored the creature's reaction, still staring at the note as if it would give her more information. When it failed, she looked back to the elf. "Have you ever heard Draco, or anyone, say anything about Giants?" she asked.

The elf shook its head woefully. "Winky not listen to Master's private conversations," it said.

Dropping to one knee to get closer to the elf's eye level, she waved the napkin at it. "Please. Draco might be in trouble. I need to find out. What do you know about the giants?"

The elf shook, clearly torn about betraying its master's trust. "I don't know," it said, pulling on its ears.

The small creature's distress was evident, but it clearly knew something. She softened her gaze, looking at the elf imploringly. "I promise you won't get in trouble," she said. "It really is important to your master for you to tell me," she added with a hint of desperation.

The elf looked at her, then at the napkin, then took a deep swallow, seeming to understand. Finally, after looking between her and the item several times, it turned its gaze to the floor with resignation as it spoke. "Master's father came here once and was complaining about the giants. He said it was a bad thing to ally with them. He didn't like them."

She felt a surge of triumph run through her body, and had to almost restrain herself from hugging the elf with relief. Instead, she forced herself to remain calm and, after it became apparent that the elf wasn't going to volunteer any further information, she prodded, "Do you know who was allied with them? Or where they might be?"

The elf shook its head, staring fearfully at the bloody napkin. Apparently, it was well aware of how important the item might be to its master's well-being. Finally, after wringing its hands, it said quietly, "He said that the filthy giants hide in the hills near Helvillon."

Ginny's hands went limp and she let the napkin fall lifelessly to the floor. She was familiar with Hellvillon. It was an historic location that she'd learned about in History of Magic. It had been the site of the Giant Rebellion that had taken place more than half a century ago. It was a fairly large and rocky area, where a few of the more barbarous giants still managed to scavenge a meager existence. She looked down at her red gown and heels and realized that she was hardly dressed for travel in the rocky countryside for a nighttime excursion.

"Can you be a bit more specific?"

"They are giants, Miss," it said helpfully, as if stating the obvious was going to clarify anything.

But then she realized that the information the elf gave was rather relevent. Large as the hillside might be, a giant should be easy enough to trace. Ginny quickly debated about what to do. If she was going on a quest, at the very least she should change clothing, or contact Moody. But then, she looked at the blood again. A person did not scribble a message in blood if it wasn't supremely urgent.

If it was Draco, she had little time to lose. If it was someone else, she was likely heading in the wrong direction based on the elf's input anyway. In either case, it would be simple enough to go and check out the situation and return to get help, if necessary. If it turned out that the area held nothing of importance, then she would simply return without raising any false alarm.

Handing the napkin to the elf, she ordered the creature to find Mad-Eye Moody and give him the same information if she didn't return by morning. Then, she transfigured her heels into a decent pair of trainers and whisked herself away to the cold, mountainous region where the giants were rumored to be.

She appeared on the slopes of the mountain near a round, deep lake. Just like Diagon Alley, located in the heart of London but invisible to Muggles, the area of Helvellon also hid a Magical land that drastically differed from its Muggle counterpart. In the Muggle world, the area was rocky and somewhat barren. Behind the Magical gateway, however, the area was covered in forest that was deep enough to hide giants.

She tried to remember what she could from her history class. The area had once been the scene of a great rebellion led by the giants and still held a heavily ominous aura. It remained a harsh and foreboding place, and Ginny couldn't help but be reminded that her clothing was sadly out of place. Her bright red dress, covered by a heavy winter cloak and light trainers were hardly appropriate attire for the hike along the ridge, which was dangerous enough in good weather.

Nevertheless, she trudged toward the ridge. There was a trail along there, although it was now covered in a light layer of snow. If her memory served her correctly, there were old mines along the ridge to the east. If Giants were in the area, it seemed the likely location where they might be. If not, well, it would at least provide some shelter while she considered what to do next.

It was difficult and slow in the darkness and, more than once, she questioned why she'd even chosen to attempt this. There was no evidence that she was in the right place except one bloody note, and an old conversation remembered by an elf. Yet, she continued, her curiosity gnawing at her.

Surprisingly, as she approached the opening of the mine, she heard voices. Dousing the light from her wand, she hid behind a rock and took out one of the extendable ears from her pocket.

"He'll give you no trouble," the voice said. "Just keep him here until ..."

The voices faded and she failed to make out the last words. She peeked around the boulder and saw the dim light of a fire through the trees, apparently coming from an opening in the hillside. She smiled to herself, realizing she'd been correct in assuming that the abandoned mine area was being used by someone for shelter.

Creeping closer, she tried to make out two forms standing outside the cave. They clearly weren't large enough to be giants, but they were looking upward, as if speaking to someone enormously taller than they were.

The booming voice of the giant answered in a slow rolling drawl, "We don' take ordurs from yore kind."

The smaller voices of the wizards failed to carry as far when they spoke, but she could make out pieces of their answer."

"... you want… he'll be here... few days..."

The giant grunted in agreement, and the wizards turned to leave, walking back down the path toward her. She ducked back into hiding, but the darkness caused her to misstep, and in her attempt to break her fall as quietly as possible, her wand dropped from her hand and down the loose rock along the steep edge of the ridge. She heard it make an almost tinkling noise as it bounced along down the loose, jagged stones below.

There would be no way she would find it tonight. A burning pain and wetness along her palm told her that she'd managed to scrape herself rather well during her fall. Hiding behind the rock, she checked herself for other injury, noting a scrape on one of her knees as well.

Without her wand, there would be no going back to the warmth and safety of London tonight.

Then, she heard growls off in the underbrush.

Without her wand, she was helpless. She looked back down the embankment, wondering if she could possibly find the item in the darkness. Closing her eyes, she tried to concentrate on a wandless Accio spell to retrieve it. Moody had demanded she practice exactly that, and she had, but concentrating on the spell in the quiet of her office or bedroom was quite a different thing than being alone in the dark, with enemies only meters away, and unknown creatures possibly ready to leap out at her at any moment.

Her attempt failed miserably. She couldn't give her full attention to the spell because she constantly had part of her mind kept wandering back to the nearby giants and their visitors. Eventually, she gave up, deciding to attempt again in the morning, when she could actually see the object that she was trying to retrieve.

She waited for the wizards to disappear down the path, and, once they were gone, she once again attempted to get closer to the cave, trying to find a rock or outcropping that would hide her sufficiently, hoping to find out if, at the very least, she was right about Malfoy having left her the note.

The area became quiet, although the fire in the cave still burned warmly. She could hear the Giants grunting, some beginning to snore as the group settled in for the night. One seemed to take up a guard position near the mouth of the cave, disuading her from getting too close. The dim light did show an outcropping above the entrance, however, and she decided to make for that, although the climb up the hillside seemed a bit steep.

She decided to attempt it anyway. The vantage point would give her a chance to listen into the cave, maybe even see into it a few meters. Slowly, carefully, she climbed the hill to a spot above the cave and worked her way across, trying not to make any noise.

It took her nearly an hour to traverse the short distance but, in the end, it was worth the effort. Although she couldn't quite see into the cave, the natural shape of the terrain directed some of the heat from the fire below to her location. At the very least, she wouldn't freeze. Curling up into the side of the hill, behind a small shrub, she wrapped her cloak around herself, grateful that it was heavy and warm enough, and waited for morning.


	6. Chapter 6  Mystery Unraveled

x

The remainder of the night passed slowly and Ginny found herself dozing in her little spot above the cave, despite her best efforts to keep awake. She needed to find out who was being held in the cave, even if it wasn't Draco, and find out what was going on. There might not even be a captive at all but, regardless, she'd stumbled upon something suspicious.

She wanted this. She needed this.

Two wizards had been there, and they appeared to be up to something with the giants. Six months ago, during the battle of Hogwarts, her brother had died because giants had destroyed a portion of the castle. Deep in her gut, she wanted to find out who was responsible, and whoever was talking to the giants might very well have been part of the group that had convinced them to join in the final battle.

Deep hatred burned in her gut.

When dawn finally broke, she decided to go in search of her wayward wand but she couldn't resist the idea of peeking into the cave first. Leaning out and around the stone, she peered in and, sure enough, caught a glimpse of the platinum blond head of Draco Malfoy, quite bound up in the corner of the cave.

She sighed in annoyance. Not that she wanted to, but for some reason she felt obligated to rescue the idiot.

First, she'd need her wand.

Working her way back down the hill, she started to head back in the direction of the rocks where she'd been when she'd dropped the thing. But, her shoes were hardly the best for the footing available and she slipped, causing a small cascade of stone to tumble down the hillside. She froze in place and waited for several seconds fearing that she might be caught out.

Nothing happened. She breathed a sigh of relief and began working her way toward the area where her wand had fallen. Then, she heard a grunt.

Turning slowly, she saw a troll, wearing what appeared to be a leash. Trolls were stupid creatures, but it seemed that this one was being used as a pet and her eyes slowly followed the line of the leash back to the giant that was holding it.

"'eard sumthin', Org?" the giant asked the creature.

"Aurrrr," it said, sniffing the air like a dog. Ginny scrambled behind a small shrub as quickly and quietly as possible, but, apparently, she wasn't quiet enough. The troll turned in her direction like a wolf sensing easy prey. It was coming her way, and quickly. Her only hope would be to get to her wand before the pair got to her.

She ran.

The wand wasn't far – just a few dozen meters away - but the troll and giant took much longer strides. She found the rock that marked the spot where she'd been standing when she'd slipped and dropped the wand and then scrambled down the incline in the direction she had heard it fall. If her wandless Accio failed last night, she doubted it would work under duress now, but she tried anyway.

Finally, she saw the item quiver down the hill amongst the stones.

But, the loud crashing behind her told her that she was too late.

Looking about frantically, she saw a small alcove under one of the larger boulders. She dove for the small opening, hoping the larger creatures wouldn't think to look there and, heedless of the painful cuts as the small stones and dirt dug into her hands and knees, she wedged herself into the small space. Once inside, she had enough room to turn and peer out of the opening fearfully.

Only moments later, she saw the back of the giant's large foot stop in front of her hideout. At least he was turned away from her.

"Wha d'ya smell, Org? It better be food," the giant said.

She cowered.

"Arrrgh! That's all? A stick? Useless thing!" he growled.

Then, her stomach lurched as she heard a sickening snap. It wasn't. It couldn't be. Not her wand.

Several minutes later, after the pair had moved off, she crawled out of her hiding place, and looked in the spot where she'd just seen her wand. It was gone.

She sat heavily on the nearest log and looked forlornly around the area, hoping beyond hope that the wand would reappear. She tried the Accio spell again, but nothing. Dropping her head heavily into her hands, she tried to think of what she needed to do next. This was, without a doubt, a disaster.

Now, not only was she helpless to do anything here, but she couldn't leave, either. The spot was just a bit too remote and she was quite certain that she was dozens of kilometers from any wizard-populated community. No wizard wanted to live near the giants.

She passed the next hour or two trying to figure out what to do. Nothing in the area moved in the cold, still winter air and she started to wonder if Moody had possibly gotten her message. She needed to keep an eye on the giants' cave to see. If Moody was on his way, he'd probably go there first.

Making her way back to the cave, she saw a number of giants moving away from the area, giving the appearance of going hunting. She wondered what they ate, but then decided that she didn't really want to know. As she neared the cave, the smell of wood smoke made its way toward her. It smelled like some sort of smoked meat, and it made her hungry, reminding her that she hadn't eaten anything for a full day.

Sneaking closer, she peered inside the opening and, once again, caught sight of Draco. He seemed to be awake, curled in a corner, and was clearly working to free his wrists from the mounds of binding.

There wasn't a giant in sight.

She crept into the cave carefully, checking to see if any of the creatures might return. At the very least, she tried to find places to hide if they did. Just as she found the large pot of stew that seemed to be left to simmer, Draco turned and released a rather high-pitched squeak in surprise.

"Shhh!" she replied irritably, while trying to figure out how to reach the top of the pot, which, unfortunately, was easily a full three meters above her head.

"Weasley!" he whispered harshly. She looked over at him, back at the pot, back to him, then gave a deep sigh. Sometimes, she hated doing the right thing, although, her reason for coming had actually been to rescue him.

"I haven't eaten since yesterday," she complained, loosening the ties on his wrists.

"Well, we won't need the food, if you just get us out of here," he complained, as his now-free hands helped hers free his feet from the ties. She tried not to pay attention to the fact that she was touching him.

Not wanting to admit that her wand was lost, she asked, "Where is your wand?"

"Flint has it, the wanker," he replied, standing. "Let's get out of here."

She looked decidedly guilty.

"Ginevra, no joking around. I don't care to be in the company of those things a minute longer. They smell, and the troll keeps wanting to make me into a snack."

She swallowed. "We can't. I lost my wand."

He looked at her in disbelief. "You what? Are you serious?" Then, he seemed to notice that she was still wearing her dress from the previous night under her cloak.

He shook his head, looking around wildly. Racing to what appeared to be the table, he grabbed what seemed to be a large rock from the floor and picked it up, stuffing it under his cloak. She stood where she was, confused by his action. Then, he turned back, grabbed her hand, and pulled her along as they ran out of the cave.

"Which way?" he asked, rather urgently.

Coming back to her senses, she rapidly decided that her spot under the rock where she'd lost her wand was the best possible spot for the moment.

"Left, down the ridge," she replied, tugging him in that direction. They raced down the path, still holding hands, and then she shoved him down the ridge toward her small hideaway.

He looked at the small opening that she was directing him toward with disdain, and then they heard the sounds of the giants in the background, clearly upset. His escape had been noticed. If that wasn't bad enough, an icy rain began to fall.

"Oh, fuck," he muttered, getting down and crawling toward the opening.

She watched his backside as he daintily picked his way among the stones, and gave it a rather forceful shove. "Get IN!" she snarled at him. "They're coming!"

She crawled in behind him, and the pair was forced to snuggle rather awkwardly close in the cramped space. Ginny turned as best she could and moved several rocks near the opening, hiding it from outside view. They listened as the heavy thumping of the giants' footsteps thundered along the ridge path.

Both gave a sigh of relief as the sounds faded.

Then, they noticed that they seemed to need to speak.

"Nice rescue," he said sarcastically, pulling the item that he'd taken from the floor of the cave from inside his coat. She realized that it was an enormous crust of bread. Apparently, it had been a crumb that had dropped from the giant table.

He said nothing more, but tore off a piece of the bread and handed it to her. She ate, watching him curiously as he picked at his own portion. His actions were so contradictory sometimes. He certainly maintained the pompous, nasty demeanor that she'd always known, but it was mixed with moments of humanity. She found him intriguing.

Not wanting to seem completely stupid, since he was very likely to ask the obvious questions as soon as he finished eating, she decided to speak first. "I left your house elf with the same information that got me here. I told it to go tell Moody where I've gone."

He raised an eyebrow in confusion. "You were at my house?"

She looked a bit abashed. Going to his place might mean that she had noticed he'd gone missing, or that she was worried about him, or that, perhaps, she wanted another night with him. All three were true, but it was still embarrassing to admit.

"I found a note in my pocket. I wasn't certain it was from you, but it made sense to check if you were home," she told him. "When Winky seemed to confirm hearing a conversation about giants, I decided to investigate." She looked up at him curiously. "I presume you were the one who left me the note?"

He shrugged, continuing to concentrate on his piece of bread. "When I realized I was in trouble, I slipped the cloak room attendant a few galleons and told her to slip it into your pocket."

"Written in blood?"

"I had already slashed my hand when Flind and I had a bit of a tiff in the men's room, I didn't have a quill and I only had a few seconds. It got the message across, didn't it?"

She had to nod in agreement. Had it been written in ordinary ink, she likely would have ignored it.

He looked over her exposed leg, since she was seated facing him, the position gave him a rather good view. "You didn't bother to change," he stated. "You didn't tell anyone that you came here?"

"I gave the information to Winky. She's supposed to go tell Moody. He should be here soon."

Draco gave a sigh and rubbed his face. "Winky? You told Winky?"

"Well, of course. Aren't elves supposed to follow orders?"

He gave a deep sigh. "Not this elf. Winky won't go anywhere."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "What?"

Frustration was evident on his face as he brushed his hair back and stared blankly at the stone roof of their tiny cave. "She's terrified of being outside. That's why I got stuck with her. Because I'm in a flat, she doesn't have to leave or go out to maintain anything."

Ginny felt her jaw drop. "So, she won't go to Moody?"

He shook his head and let it drop limply back against the stone behind him, then closed his eyes. "We'll probably have to wait for Moody to go looking for you, and I'm sure he'll eventually check my place."

She could feel her stomach plunge. It might be a couple of days before Moody realized that she didn't return from the party and managed to figure out where she'd gone.

They waited in silence, unsure of what to say. After a while, Ginny could feel the burst of adrenaline leaving her system. The food had filled her stomach, and the long night without sleep was starting to affect her. Her eyes slowly began to droop.

"You were up all night," Draco stated.

She nodded, tiredly. "I'm sorry about the wand. The troll nearly found me and I had to leave it behind to hide from them. It was stupid of me to come here alone."

He gave a lopsided smile. "You came for me, and I rather appreciate that. I didn't think you cared," he said in a weak joke.

"Who said I cared? I detest giants and I wanted to find out who might be dealing with them. You were just a bonus prize," she said, although the words had been intended to be a bit of an insult, and were partially true, somehow it didn't sound unkind.

He leaned forward, taking her hand. "Come over here, Ginevra," he said quietly, tugging at her.

She shifted, moving herself to sit by his side, too tired to protest, and his shoulder seemed far more comfortable than the rock she'd been propped up against. He wrapped an arm around her. "Get some rest. We'll take shifts keeping guard until nightfall."

"I hate being called 'Ginevra', you know," she grumbled, but snuggled against him anyway, attempting to get comfortable.

"Too bad," he replied, and she could almost picture the smile on his face, although she couldn't see it from her position.

Deciding that their rather cozy position might give her some leeway for one more question, she asked, "So, Flint implied that you fancied me for the past two years. Is that true?"

He gave a harsh chuckle. "It's rather difficult to not think about a girl who can hex anyone as well as you did me."

She wanted to ask more, but the weariness overtook her and, for the moment, she felt safe enough to get some rest.

When she awoke, their small cave was dark. The sun had set but, fortunately, their body heat kept the small space warm enough. His head was resting against hers and his arm was still around her. She realized that he must be terribly uncomfortable. It was rather gentlemanly of him.

Trying not to think about how comfortable she felt with him, she shifted, allowing him to move his arm and regain circulation. "You need to take your turn sleeping."

She felt him shake his head. I got some rest overnight. I'll sleep later. For now, it's dinnertime, and they'll likely be busy eating. We should get out of here and find a way to get back home. I owe Flint a bit of revenge."

"Who was he sending for?" she asked, abruptly. "Why did they capture you? I heard them say that they were keeping you for someone."

He drew in a breath. "Whoever Flint works for," he said slowly. "I got the impression that it's someone rather influential in the Ministry."

She frowned. "But you don't know who?"

"No, but they knew I was working to find out who killed my father. Somebody didn't like that. I'm guessing they brought me here to convince me to join them, or else I'd disappear permanently."

She was a bit surprised. He didn't seem like the type to be so obvious about finding information. He certainly hadn't been forthcoming in sharing what he knew and, from their conversation on the morning that she woke up in his bedroom, she'd gathered that he hadn't had much more information than she did. "You were asking questions? Flint said something about you being too nosy."

He gave a small snort. "Someone had to distract them."

"Distract them, from what?"

He looked at her as if she were stupid. "From you. You insisted on keeping after Flint for information . It was clear that you were going to get caught out soon enough, you were so obvious about it."

She gave a short huff in annoyance, wanting to protest, but, then she thought about all the mistakes she'd made. He was, unfortunately, right. Then, she was hit by another disturbing thought. "You were protecting me?"

"I'd rather not discuss it," he said gruffly.

She stared at him, although he wasn't looking back at her. He'd slumped against the wall, his arms crossed and his lower lip sticking out in a bit of a pout, much like a small child. She thought it was a rather endearing pose. Which led her to think about the fact that he'd been fancying her for two years, and now he put himself in jeopardy to keep her from being caught as a spy. It was a bit much to take in.

Fortunately, he saved her from any further awkward conversation by moving away to clear the stones from the entrance.

"Let's get out of here. I need to get home, get a good bath, and talk to Moody. Hopefully, in that order," he grumbled.

"No!" she said, a bit too loudly, obviously startling him, by the way he jumped and turned to look at her in surpirse. She continued, "We need to find out more about who is behind this! The giants know. If we listen in, they might let his name slip up."

He turned back and the dim light from the half moon reflected into the opening, lighting his face slightly. She could see his frown. "Are you mad? We get out of here, get help, and then worry about the Aurors gathering evidence."

She grabbed at his shirt to make sure he had her full attention, forcing him to turn back and face her. "No. We can't tell the Aurors. Don't you see? That's why Moody has his own department, outside of the Aurors! Kingsley doesn't trust someone in there. If we leave, they'll abandon coming here, maybe even move or eliminate the giants here so their secret won't be uncovered. Whoever is working with these giants was a partner with Voldemort. We need to find out who, or you'll never be safe because they'll suspect you'll betray them. That's why they murdered your father. He knew who that person was."

He stared at her, his face dropping in defeat. "While that is a brilliant deduction, Weasley, I would rather at least have a wand."

She convinced him that her spot above the cave, while more exposed, was still hidden well enough in the darkness. They could listen there. Hesitantly, he agreed.

Unfortunately, they spent a long, miserable night listening to nothing worthwhile, except how repulsive the giants could be while eating. By the time the group seemed to go off to sleep, the pair of wizards were tired, and snow had begun to fall.

"We better get back," Draco said. "Or they'll be able to trace our footprints right back to us."

She agreed, but not before she managed to convince him to duck back into the giants' cave and steal another meal. This time, he was able to find a puddle of soup in a dropped ladle, another piece of bread, and a chunk of potato.

"They said that the person coming for you would be by tomorrow," she said, after they'd made their way back and had finished eating. "We'll find out then."

"Tomorrow, we leave," he said firmly. "If we're caught, it won't help us."

"Maybe Moody will find us by then," she said hopefully.

He said nothing. Then, after a few minutes. "Sleep, Ginevra. We've got to be awake tomorrow, regardless of what happens."

They curled up together, taking turns sleeping until morning.

That's when things started going wrong.

It was Ginny's turn to keep guard as the sun rose and Draco was getting his few hours of rest. Despite the fact that watching Draco sleep in the early morning light was rather pleasant, being on watch was deadly boring and she''d fought herself from drowsing off more than once. She was determined to convince him to stay for the extra day, just to catch a glimpse of whoever was behind the dealings with the giants. Then, they could leave.

Deciding to take a break to stretch her legs, she left the small hideaway and found herself a log a short distance away to relieve herself in relative privacy. That was when the troll appeared, sniffing around the area. She froze.

The troll was without the giant this time, but he remained dangerous. The creature was as enormous as it was stupid, and it seemed intent on investigating the area. A troll would be difficult enough to fight even if she had her wand and its associated magic. There was no way she could combat it without.

She watched as the creature tore about the area, digging at the location where her wand had fallen the day before. Then, it moved around, working its way closer to the rock where Draco was sleeping. She held her breath. The troll would likely kill him if it found him.

If she was going to have any chance she needed to get to higher ground and distract the beast.

Then, she realized that they only had one chance. Draco had been right about one thing: that he had value to his captors, at least while they thought they might be able to sway him to their side. If they found Draco, the giants would probably not hurt him, but would take him back to their dwelling to await the person who had worked with Voldemort. If they found her, they'd likely kill her, since she had no value and knew more than she should, and then they'd probably find Draco anyway.

She had one chance.

Picking up a stone, she waited for the giant along the path to come closer. Then, when he was close enough, she threw the stone into the troll's ear, hoping that it wedged its way in deep enough to cause pain. It did. The creature howled.

"That you, Org?" the giant asked, marching toward the sound.

The troll stopped moving toward her and was shaking its head. Now, for certain, they would know that the troll had found something and would investigate. She needed them to find Draco first. Picking up another stone, she pitched it at the opening of the opening under the rock, and the tinkling sound of small rocks bouncing off each other made the giant look.

With one giant mitt of a hand, he lifted the rock, revealing the blond man who was underneath.

"Lookee what we found," he said, sounding pleased. Draco attempted to scramble away, but didn't get far, and Ginny hid behind the mossy tree stump unable to watch the giant carry him away, feeling decidedly guilty, and hoping that they didn't decide to look further.

She spent the rest of the day watching the entrance to the giants' cave, hoping desperately that Moody had at least taken notice of her disappearance by now.

Night fell, and still she waited, hoping that Moody would find them before the person responsible for capturing Draco arrived.

It was dreadful hearing the familiar pop of Apparition, as the visitors arrived. Flint was there, alongside a very well-dressed man. They entered the dwelling without waiting for invitation.

She needed to get closer so that she could listen to everything they said.

It didn't take long for her to recognize the second man. She'd seen him before, numerous times, in Kingsley Shackelbolt's office and again at the Ministry Christmas Party: The Deputy Minister, Crawford Stern.

The details of the conversation slipped by, and parts were hard to tolerate listening to. They began to try to persuade Draco to join them, threatening blackmail and murder of his mother, if he failed. She couldn't see Draco's expression, but his his responses were apparently well-chosen and seemed to draw out more information. She gave a smile. He knew she would be there, listening. He was giving her what she needed. For some reason, she trusted him, although she wasn't quite sure why. She wasn't quite sure he would be so considerate if he knew that she'd betrayed his location to save herself, but she decided to worry about that later.

Eventually, however, they grew tired of the conversation. She'd heard enough to know that Stern was responsible for the giants making the attack on Hogwarts castle. He was responsible for the reason why her brother had died. She listened as he laughed and boasted about the attack on the castle, and she felt the blood start to roar in her ears. Overall, sixteen students had been killed in that attack. Most of them had only been hiding.

He then went into his plans, hoping that he could pursuade Draco to join him. She heard about how he planned to get his own man elected into Kingsley's position, and that he planned to find a way to eliminate Kingsley entirely. He would then hold all the power of the government via a puppet leader.

The conversation made her ill and she was having a hard time listening further as her anger rose. She couldn't wait. Perhaps Draco would negotiate with them to convince them to let him live, but it didn't matter, she cursed herself for not having her wand.

She peered over the log, trying to get a good look at the situation, and then she felt an uncomfortably warm burst of air behind her. Turning slowly, she found herself looking straight into the nostrils of Org, the troll.

She gave an involuntary shriek.

Org held her in place until Flint walked over and hauled her out, practically dragging her back into the cave.

When Flint hauled her in front of Stern, she couldn't help but say something. It was likely that they would kill her, regardless of what she or Draco said, so she decided that, even if she died, she wanted him to know exactly what she thought. "You were responsible for the giants attacking Hogwarts Castle!"

He looked at her oddly, as if she were an interesting specimen of some sort. He waved his hand about the huge cave that they were standing in. "Now, my dear, what would make you think such a thing?" he asked sarcastically. Then, he nodded toward the giants nearby and they departed the area, leaving the wizards to settle their dispute among themselves.

She glared at the man, wanting to make him understand exactly how horrible his actions had been. "My brother died because that castle was ripped apart. Sixteen students died! Don't you care?"

He looked at her with mock sympathy. "My dear, casualties of war are a necessary evil. You are old enough to understand that."

She snarled at him. "They were children! What could you possibly have gained?"

His expression turned to something akin to pity. "At the time, it was in our best interest to do everything in our power to win that battle. It was unfortunate that the Dark Lord failed. It made the losses unnecessary, and now we need to clean up a series of mistakes to move onward. Surely, you are intelligent enough to understand."

Draco seemed to be trying to shush her. "She doesn't know what she's saying, Stern. You know that I do. Let me try to convince her."

Flint gave a laugh. "You? The traitor? Your father was ten times the man you could ever be, and we didn't trust him enough to live with knowing all this."

"You know you can use me. Potter spoke for me at my trial. I can be useful to you."

Flint looked over at Stern, who shook his head negatively. "I'm sorry, young Malfoy, but I'm afraid Marcus is right. Your lady seems to be a bit passionate, which makes you both a problem."

She glared at Stern with every ounce of hatred that she could muster.

Flint watched everything, holding her obscenely close while Stern looked her over, deciding her fate. Flint whispered softly into her ear, "I should have known you had it in with Malfoy, you little tramp."

She turned her head as far as she could and spat at him, unfortunately missing, but the effect was worth the effort.

Draco remained silent, his hands once again bound, but he was standing close to where Flint now held her. She gave him a look of apology. She'd been amazingly incompetent in almost everything about this investigation. Almost everything that Moody had taught her had gone to waste. She'd been so focused on her goal of gaining the information, that she'd completely ignored the proper means of acquiring it safely, and, as a result, she'd put them both in danger.

She'd wanted to capture these people so badly, that she'd failed to plan out anything properly.

Then, her gaze wandered past Draco, toward the edge of the table just above and behind him. There was something hanging over the edge, and, she wasn't certain, but it looked suspiciously like the end of her wand.

"We can't eliminate both of them," snarled Stern to Flint. "Too suspicious. Someone will go looking."

"What we can do is Obliviate them. They're obviously together, and have been for some time," Flint replied. "Got witnesses to that," he added with a smile. "We Obliviate, Confund them a bit then send them off on some little vacation together where they have an unfortunate accident."

"I like your work, Flint," Stern responded with admiration. "Do it. I'll see to it that your account gets a nice deposit in the morning."

Flint smiled and Ginny realized that she hated him even more than she hated Stern.

Looking up at the item that might or might not be her wand, she closed her eyes and tried ther wandless Accio spell, ignoring everything else that was said.

Stern disappeared into the darkness, presumably leaving Flint to do the dirty work, not that it mattered. If they lived, she could find him later. For now, all that mattered was that her wand, her unbroken wand, was flying toward her open hand.

Just as Flint raised his want to utter a spell at Draco, Ginny's wand reached her fingers. A split-second later, it was aimed at Flint and he flew across the room.

That was when Ginny's mind seemed to shut down. This man had helped kill, and had shown no remorse. He was going to kill her, and he'd helped kill her brother. She wanted him to pay, with all her heart.

He fell to the floor and his wand clattered across the ground moments after the spell hit him and she was physically on top of him a second after that, pounding his face with her bare fists. Stern might have been the negotiator with the giants, but this prick had helped, and she wanted revenge. Blood splattered as Flint's nose and lip split under her fists. As he tried to recover from the spell that had hit him, he weakly tried to raise his hands to defend himself, but she hit again, hearing his head bounce against the floor with a hideous thud.

She might have killed him. He was unconscious, but she kept hitting, until someone grabbed her from behind, holding her arms still. She fought the person, unrecognizing and uncaring of who it was. All she wanted was to continue to hit Flint, knowing full well that it wouldn't bring her brother back, but she didn't care.

Then, she slowly became aware that the arms holding her had wrapped around her in a hug. She shook out of her mad frenzy, realizing that her attacker was Draco. He whispered something in her ear that she couldn't quite understand, but the tone of his voice was unexpectedly calm. The sudden feeling of compassion sucked all the anger out of her in an instant.

She stopped struggling and looked down at the prone form of Flint beneath her. When she realized what she'd done to him, a feeling of horror crept over her.

A heaviness, nauseous feeling rose in her throat and her eyes began to water as she realized what she had become. She had been ready to murder him with the same lack of pity that they'd had when they murdered those children at Hogwarts. A great, heaving sob finally worked its way out of her body and she collapsed, tears rolling down her face.

Draco lifted her, pulling her away from the unconscious Flint, and she turned into him, her body collapsing in an overwhelming release of grief.

Her family had cried for weeks during the summer, and all she'd done was watch with growing anger at the injustice of Fred's death. Then, when they'd started moving on with their lives, she'd grown angrier with them, until she felt forced to break away from them for the sake of her own sanity. Now, finally, something had snapped and she was ready to release that same sorrow that her family had released long ago, but, for her, it had been pent up for so long, that once she started, she realized that she couldn't stop.

She let the blond hold her for what seemed like an eternity while she cried. The sobs continued until she felt that she might dry up and wither away from loss of water. She lost track of how long they stayed there. The shirt of the man that she'd been crying on was soaked, yet he continued to hold her, saying nothing. She swallowed, unable to look up at him, but immensely grateful for his presense.

Shortly after she began to regain control of her emotions, she heard a pop just outside the cave. Draco continued to hold her with one arm, the other hand was holding her wand and aiming it at the intruders, only to lower it as soon as he recognized that the newcomer was Mad-Eye Moody, with Kingsley and several other familiar faces behind him.

Several hours later, Stern, Flint, and others associated with them were in custody. Ginny had been checked for injuries and had given her statement, and she and Draco were allowed to go home.

After all they'd been through together, it almost seemed strange for them to go their separate ways. Instead, as soon as they left the Ministry offices, he put his arm around her and took her to his flat with him and, for some unknown reason, she didn't resist.

She took an obscenely long bath, soaking in the large tub and trying to make sense of her feelings. Reaching no conclusion, she put on a clean pair of his pajamas, which had been sized down to fit her, and crawled into his bed. He said nothing, simply pulling back the covers to welcome her in. She didn't want to be alone and it seemed that he felt the same.

As he wrapped his arms around her, she realized that, at some point. they would need to talk about many things, but for now, there was no need for words. She snuggled into his arms and began to slip in to an exhausted sleep, finally feeling at peace.

x - x

A/N - Dear Readers. Thank you so very much for all your reviews and feedback.

It appears that I have a bit more to write, and have started on a sequel, but I'm not sure when I will begin posting it. When that happens, I will add a new chapter with the name and location of the sequel.


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